The Stand
by QLTales
Summary: Back in Socorro after the Cabin incident, Al, Sam, and Thelma spend a few days together. Tensions and laughter intermix, leading to Sam making his needs known. A sequel to "Looking For Christmas"
1. Chapter 1

**The Stand**

By: dulcinea1969 & asearcher

_Disclaimer: Quantum Leap and all related characters are owned by Belisarius Productions and Universal. No profit has been made off the writing or distribution of this piece of fiction._

**Chapter 1**

A town car slowed to a stop in front of the lone house. Set on the outskirts of town, the home was surrounded by the desert with no neighbors nearby. Shortly after the town car stopped, the occupants started to exit the vehicle.

Thelma watched as her son went to the back of the vehicle to retrieve their belongings from the trunk. The first item he pulled out was the metal crutches Al was still using. He brought them to his friend who still sat in the front passenger seat.

While Sam assisted Al from the car, the driver started to remove their luggage, piling it just outside the front door to the house. "Why don't you go let your mother in and start getting the luggage inside and I'll take care of the fare," Al suggested once he was balanced on the crutches.

"Sure," Sam answered quietly. He knew that the money he currently had in his wallet wasn't anywhere near enough to pay for the car ride from the airport in Albuquerque all the way out to his home just outside of Socorro.

Thelma watched her son from the end of the walk and did her best to quell the feeling of worry that shot through her. She was relieved that they'd finally made it to Sam's house. Looking at her son, she could see the toll that the day had taken on him. The travel, combined with the number of people who'd stopped Sam, having recognized him from the cover of _Time_, had added up. The healthy color that he'd had in his face had vanished leaving him drawn and tired looking.

Looking over to where Al was talking with the driver, she noticed that he didn't look much better from the traveling. Despite what either the two of them may think they were going to do once they were inside, she knew she was going to make sure her two boys – because despite the fact that Al was closer to her in age than Sam she did consider him one of her boys – did nothing more but rest and relax.

Sam went by her up the walk carrying the last suitcase and set it down by the door. She noticed how much his hand was shaking as he put the key in the lock. That only served to solidify her plans to take care of him no matter how he felt about it.

Al finished paying the town car driver. He was glad that his minor consulting work for companies looking to obtain government contracts for jobs with the Navy could be fairly lucrative. He and Sam had talked about it once. Sam knew Al wouldn't do anything that represented a conflict of interest and so, for the most part, his side work was off Sam's radar. With four alimonies to pay and his parlance for nice clothes, cars, and an entertainment-focused lifestyle, Al was glad this gig paid so well.

He walked to the door and saw that Sam seemed to be having a little trouble with the lock. The older man noted that Thelma's whole body spoke of concern for her son. Al couldn't blame her. Sam looked like hell.

"Home sweet home," Sam said as he finally unlocked the door and pushed it open. He put the suitcase in his hand down just inside the door and bent down to scoop up the mail that was on the floor. He deposited it on the table by the door to deal with it later.

Al moved to the side of the door and pulled out a cigar. He hadn't had one all day due to watching out for Sam as he ran the gamut of people recognizing him. Sam wasn't exactly a shrinking violet, but he also wasn't one that liked a lot of attention. Al knew that today had likely been one of the worst days of his life. He watched as Sam continued to take care of the luggage.

After his mother had come into the house, Sam went back out to get the rest of the bags. He looked at Al enjoying a cigar and smiled before reentering his home. After he'd brought all the bags in, he started to move them to different rooms in the house but Thelma stopped him, led him into the living room and pushed him down to sit on one of the couches. "You just leave those where they are and sit there and rest. You look like you're about ready to drop and I want no arguments from you."

"No, Ma'am," Sam agreed too tired to do anything but sit.

Thelma brushed the hair back from his forehead and kissed him. "I'm going to go in the kitchen and see what you have in there." She looked around the room seeing the rolls of Christmas wrapping paper and other things that didn't belong in the room. "I'll set this room to rights after that." She stood back from Sam, her hands on her hips. "Honestly, Son, I don't know why you don't pick up after yourself. If you clean up your messes as you make them, it won't be as bad."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed. He heard the same and similar many times before.

Al finished his cigar and followed Thelma and Sam into the house. As he did most times, he looked over on the table where Sam threw his mail. He noted that most of it was, as usual, the credit card offers and other junk that Sam normally threw out. There was, though, a letter written on letterhead from the lodge they'd recently stayed at

Al picked up the letter and took it to Sam. "Who do you think this is from? You'd didn't find some ski bunny in the ski class, did you?"

Sam took the letter from Al, tossed it on the couch next to him, and got up. "I have no idea what it is." He started in the direction of the kitchen where his mother had gone. "I better go see what she's doing in there. She's probably going to blow her top when she sees the refrigerator."

Al grimaced as Sam walked off. The kid had been working hard right up to when they had left. He had no doubt that Sam was right.

Sam walked into the kitchen just as Thelma pulled the door to the refrigerator open. "Dear Lord, the boy must have some kind of experiment in here," she said when she saw the bowl of oranges that had started to rot.

"I was going to clean that out but didn't get a chance before we left," Sam said as he quickly came over to his mother. He reached around her and took out the bowl of rotted fruit.

Thelma took hold of his wrist and took the bowl out of his hand. "I thought I told you to sit on the couch and rest." She looked at him firmly. "Do I really have to repeat myself?"

"No, Ma'am," Sam said meekly as he released his hold on the bowl.

"Good. Now out of here and back to the living room." She followed him as far as the kitchen door to make sure he did as he was told.

Al had taken a seat and had his leg elevated. "So, you going to open that?" he asked when Sam came back in the living room.

Sam wandered back to the couch and slumped on it. He picked up the envelope and flipped it over looking at it. "It's probably just something about the bill or something although I don't know how they got my address. He handed the envelope over to Al. "Here, it was probably supposed to go to you. You open it."

Al took the letter and opened it. "I'll be damned," he stated as he read it.

"What is it?" Sam asked. "Did they screw up the bill?"

"Nope. The kid that hit me is Senator Sparks' son."

"Senator Sparks? Is that who the letter's from?" Sam got up from the couch and went to the thermostat on the wall. He'd put the heat low before they left and there was a chill in the house. He thought about making a fire in the fireplace but he just didn't have it in him to do that.

"Yeah. It's from Spark's himself. They're going to cover my medical bills. From the way this letter is written though, they still don't know who I am - just you. His son recognized you from the _Time_ magazine cover." He paused. "Says here he'd like to invite you and a guest to have dinner with him."

"Guess that picture finally came in handy for something," Sam commented as he slumped back down on the couch. "Does it say when he wants to go to dinner? I hope it's not for a while."

"He says his secretary will contact you. Makes sense since he's not always in New Mexico." Al handed the letter back to Sam. "You know, this could really be a good thing."

Sam accepted the letter from Al and quickly scanned it before leaning forward to put it on the coffee table. "I guess it's a good thing. I'm sure the insurance company is going to be happy if they don't have to cover everything."

"No, Sam," Al said excitedly. "Sparks and Weitzman are buddies - they went to law school together."

"So..." Sam prompted.

"So…it never hurts to have friends in high places - especially if they're buddies with the guy that makes sure you have a paycheck."

"I guess. I should probably pay more attention to that stuff."

"Well, that's part of the reason you keep me around," reasoned Al.

"I guess." Sam cocked his head as he heard the teakettle whistling and he groaned. "She must be getting ready to sterilize my kitchen." He looked back over to Al. "Next time we plan a vacation, remind me to make sure the house is neat as a pin. That way when one of us ends up in the hospital and Mom flies out here to play nurse, the house'll be clean before she gets here."

Before Al answered, Thelma came into the room with a mug that she handed to Sam. "I found some chamomile tea," she said to him in explanation of what the mug contained. "You have nothing in that kitchen to eat. Where are your car keys?"

"My car keys?" Sam questioned caught by surprise. "Why do you need my car keys?"

"Because I'm going to go to the grocery store and get some food to put in this house. That's why." When Sam opened his mouth to say something, she quickly spoke over him. "Don't tell me not to go and don't tell me you're coming with me. I remember how to get there. You're going to stay put."

Sam recognized the look in his mother's eyes and knew it was useless to try to contradict her. Instead, he got up and retrieved his keys from where he'd left them on the table with his mail. "It's in the garage," he said as he handed the keys to his mother.

"Thank you, Sweetheart. Now sit back down and drink your tea. I'll be back before you know it."

"Told you she was going to take over," Sam said after Thelma had left.

"And you're surprised about that?"

"I guess not." Sam sipped at the tea finding it soothing. He stared into the darkened fireplace. "Can I tell you something, Al?"

"Of course, Sam. What's on your mind?" Al asked.

Sam looked over to his friend. "I'm glad she's here right now to take charge. I don't think I could do it right now. I thought things would be fine when we got home." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "I'm just tired."

Al looked over at Sam with concern. In all the time he'd known him, Sam seemed to have limitless energy except when he was ill. "You sure those antibiotics are strong enough, Kid? Maybe you've got one of those super bugs."

"They're strong enough. It's just been a long day I guess." Sam leaned over to put the mug on the table and got up. "Of course, they're not going to work if I keep forgetting to take them. He went out to the foyer, pulled his coat from the closet, took the bottle of pills out of the pocket, and came back into the living room with them. He took one of the pills out of the bottle and swallowed it with some of the tea. "Don't tell Mom I forgot, ok."

"Your secret is safe with me." Al paused. "This thing with the magazine really bugs you, doesn't it?"

"A little. I like that no one knew who I was but the cover of _Time_ has changed that, at least for a lot of people. I've got a feeling it's going to be a little while before those people forget about this and things get back to normal." Sam leaned forward to put the now empty mug down on the table and got up from the sofa again. "I should get our laundry and stuff unpacked - maybe throw in a load. If I don't, Mom's just going to do it all and she needs to relax too."

Al nodded. "How about if you unpack the stuff in here? I can sort from the sofa."

"Ok." Sam retrieved the suitcase his and Al's clothes were in and brought it to the living room. He sat down on the floor with it and started to pull the clothes out of it. He put his stuff in one pile and Al's in another.

Al helped Sam to sort. "I'll have to send some of this out to the dry cleaners," he commented.

"That's the advantage to having machine-wash stuff," Sam pointed out.

"No. I mean that some of my things can't be washed in water. They have to be dry cleaned," Al explained.

"I know what you meant. I'm just saying having machine-wash is a lot easier. I don't have to take any of my stuff anywhere and it'll be clean a lot sooner." Once the laundry was sorted, Sam picked up one of the piles and brought it out to the small laundry room near the garage, put it in the washer and started it up. He grabbed the laundry basket from the top of the dryer and brought it back to the living room for the rest of clothes that needed laundering.

When Sam returned, Al continued. "I know that, Sam but the look I'm going for just doesn't work for machine wash. You may like blue jeans and the like but I don't."

"I like comfortable. There's nothing wrong with comfortable. I'd think after all the time you spent in a uniform you'd like comfortable too." Sam bent down and put the remaining clothes into the basket. When he stood up, he stumbled backward a step and nearly dropped the basket.

Al tried to stand but his leg prevented his moving quickly. "Sam, you ok?" he asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Sam said with a nod. "I think I just straightened up too fast, that's all. Maybe there's really something to that whole thing about not taking antibiotics on an empty stomach," he said ruefully. Realizing he was repeating what he'd said earlier, he again asked his friend, "Don't tell Mom, ok?"

"Yeah. No problem."

Sam took the basket out to the laundry room and left it on the dryer. When he came back in to the living room, he had a garment bag in his hand. It contained the clothes that Al had bought on his shopping spree in Colorado Springs as well as the outfit he'd bought for Sam when they went to dinner. "Do you want me to hang your stuff in my closet for now," he asked.

"Sure." Al took a breath. "I'm really sorry I can't help you much, Kid."

"Don't worry about it. There's really not that much." Sam brought the garment bag into his room and tossed it on the bed. He removed the contents from it and hung them up in his closet. Once that was done, he took the remaining suitcases that belonged to his mother back to the guest room at the other end of the house. "I'll sleep in my office," he told Al when he came back in the living room, "and you can take my bedroom."

"Ahhhh, Sam. I don't want to take your room. I'll be happy with the office."

"You should be sleeping in a real bed, not on a sofa bed again. You really should take my bed." As much as he was trying to convince Al that the bed would be better, Sam was also hoping that his friend would insist on sleeping in the office since he was looking forward to his own bed.

"But Sam, your bed's a little high off the ground. With this leg, I'm not sure it would be easy to get into it. I'm ok with the sofa bed. Besides, yours isn't lumpy."

"Ok, if you really think the office will be easier." Sam went to the fireplace and started stacking wood into it. He felt a little guilty that he'd only put up a token protest and decided that tomorrow night, he'd insist that Al take his bed and he'd sleep in the office. Just for tonight, though, sleeping in his own bed with his own pillows was something he really wanted to do.

Once the fire was going, he got up and started for kitchen. "I should make sure the fridge is cleaned out. Knowing Mom, she'll buy enough groceries to last a month."

"How long do you think she'll be gone?"

"I don't know. Maybe an hour or so."

"That should give you enough time. You want me to come into the kitchen to keep you company?"

"If you want. I know you're more comfortable in here and you can keep your leg up."

Al shrugged. "I can sit in one chair and put my leg up on another." He reached over and grabbed his crutches.

"Ok." The two men moved into the kitchen. While Al "supervised" from the table, Sam cleaned out the refrigerator. Unfortunately, the oranges his mother found weren't the only experiment that was housed within it. Anything in plastic he decided wasn't worth even trying to save. If he couldn't remember the last time he'd cleaned out the refrigerator, there was no telling how long some things had been in there - especially since he spent just as much time at the project now as he did here.

He pulled a metal bowl from the back and cautiously took the lid from it. He regretted doing so almost immediately. He gagged when he saw and smelled the contents and quickly covered it back up. "I'm really starting to hate tuna fish."

"Well, if you don't let it sit for so long, it's not so bad," observed Al. "You know, one way to deal with this is just to throw them out if you don't finish them.

"I guess I just get wrapped up in other things and don't get around to it all the time." Sam looked at the bowl in his hand and weighed how much he valued it as opposed to how much he valued keeping the last meal he ate in his body. He opted on making sure he remained in possession of his lunch and dropped the bowl into the trash.

When everything had been cleaned out, he put the dishes and containers he'd emptied into the dishwasher and ran it. The bag he'd put the discarded items in he tied up to put in the larger trash bin in he garage.

When he came back in, the washer was just finishing so he put the clothes into the dryer and started the next load. "You want some coffee or something," he asked Al when he returned to the kitchen.

"Sure. Coffee sounds good."

Sam started to put a pot of coffee together then remembered his refrigerator was nearly bare now. "I don't have any cream so I hope black is going to be ok."

"Black's fine."

"Good." Once the coffee was started, he looked through the shelves in the pantry to find something they could eat. He brought a badly dented box of Oreos over to the table. It was more than half-empty. "Sorry, this is all I have right now."

"Oreo's are good. Wish we had milk though." Al picked one up. "I always enjoyed breaking these apart and eating the middle first."

"Well, if you really want some milk, I can go get that carton out of the trash for you."

"No, I don't want it that bad," Al stated putting his hands up for emphasis. He took one of the Oreos and chewed the edge. "Were you serious about holing up for a few days?"

"Kinda," Sam responded as he pulled two mugs out of one of the cabinets. "You probably think something's wrong with me because I don't want to go running back to the project - especially after being gone for a week." He put the mugs down on the table and shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired today but I'd like to just stay put and not deal with anyone or anything until I'm not feeling so crummy."

Al nodded. "I'll call Gooshie tomorrow. Let him know he'll be in charge for the next week. You think that will be long enough?"

Sam smiled slightly. "You know me. I'll probably be ready to go back tomorrow or the next day." When the coffeemaker started to gurgle signaling it was ready, he went over to get it. "I guess it all depends on how long Mom's here. I can't exactly take her there with me and I'm not just going to leave her alone." He poured out the two mugs of coffee and returned the pot to the coffee maker. "If you want to go out, I can drive you tomorrow. You don't have to stay here."

Al couldn't argue with Sam about taking his mother to the project. "There's not much I can do there that I can't do from here and there's no need to put that kind of mileage on your jeep."

"Good," Sam said with a relieved smile. "Mom shouldn't smother me as much if you're here 'cause she'll have to split her attention between the two of us."

"Oh now there's a lovely thought. Smothered by Ma Beckett."

"Don't think she wouldn't do it," Sam laughed. He sat down but just as quickly got up to retrieve the sugar bowl from the island in the center of the kitchen. "She won't be able to give me all of her attention so now I at least have a decent chancing of not getting spoon fed." He looked at Al remembering his time in the hospital and added on, "again."

Al recognized the dig that Sam had given him but didn't say anything. He'd felt justified helping Sam out. He looked at this watch. "Do you think you can bring my pills to me Sam? They were in the carryon."

"Oh yeah. Which ones? The antibiotic or the painkiller?"

"Both," answered Al.

"Coming right up." Sam went to his bedroom where he'd put the carryon and pulled out the two bottle of pills. When he got back to the kitchen, he noticed Al trying to get his finger between the cast and his leg. "Getting itchy?" he asked as he handed him the pill bottles.

Al shook his head. "I'm just trying to see if the leg is swelling again." He'd been mostly good about not walking on it since the leg had been recast but recent events still spooked him.

"Oh. Well, I hate to tell you but it's probably going to start getting itchy. That is one reason why I'm so happy they didn't put me in a cast when I broke my leg." A shudder rippled through Sam as he thought about what it would have been like to have been in a cast from his ankle to his hip and how much longer it would have taken before he was up and walking. "That and it would have taken longer before I was able to get around on my own."

Al gave a weak smile. "Itchy I can handle. Losing my leg..." He trailed off. He quieted and took a sip of his coffee. "You know, Kid, what you did was really something. Walking three miles in the snow to find help for me - it couldn't have been easy."

Sam sat down again, added sugar to his coffee, and stirred it thoughtfully. "Was it really three miles? I had no idea how far it was. I just knew you needed help and I had to get it." He took the spoon out of the coffee and laid it on the table then looked at Al. "I imagine it's not much further than you had to hike when you got me help. When it's that important, how far it is just doesn't seem to matter."

Al nodded. "Yeah. I know I wouldn't have stopped until I found someone. The way it was, I was almost too late." The last was said with a strangled sound as the memories of that time flowed over Al.

"Almost doesn't count, Al. We can't think about that. All that matters is that you did get help on time. If it weren't for you, I'd be dead." Sam thought for a moment before continuing. "I'd likely be dead a couple of times over."

"I know I'd be if not for you, Kid." Al looked up. "And now the fact that I still have two good legs is because of you as well. Thanks, Sam."

"Any time, my friend." A somber silence fell between the two men that Sam eventually broke. "I'll still kill you if you ever tell Katie about the streaking." The twinkle in his eyes belied any real menace

Al laughed. "Hey, it's a funny story."

"It all depends on what side of the story you're on. I don't find someone stealing my clothes particularly funny."

"Ok, that's not funny, I'll give you that, Kid, but the thought of you trying to make it up Mass. Ave with nothing but some newspapers to cover you, in the rain – now that is funny." Al took a sip of coffee and wrinkled his nose. "Someday you'll get this right."

"Not that the fact that I don't make great coffee's ever stopped you from drinking it." Sam took a sip from his own mug. "Gah, this is worse than usual. I must not have paid attention when I measured the coffee out." Sam put the mug down and pushed it aside. "While we're just sitting here, there was something I wanted to go over with you on the plans for control."

As soon as the words were out of Sam's mouth, Al started to chuckle. "I knew you couldn't stay away from work for long, Kid."

"Just because I want to show you something doesn't mean I want to jump into my usual schedule right off. Let me just go get the copy of the plans I have in my office."

Sam soon came back to the kitchen with the roll of plans in hand. He cleared the coffee mugs off the table and spread them out.

"Hey," Al said as Sam took his mug away. "Just because I said it wasn't great doesn't mean I wasn't drinking that."

"Sorry," Sam said, though he wasn't very contrite. He did get the mug from where he'd put it on the island and gave it back to Al.

For the next half hour, the two men poured over the plans as Sam showed Al his ideas and Al offered his own suggestions. It was only when he heard the dryer ding that Sam rolled up the plans to put away. "I should go put that other load in the dryer."

He had just finished emptying the dryer into the empty laundry basket when he heard a car pull into the garage. As the engine stopped, he pulled open the door that led to the garage to help his mother with the groceries.

"I'm not going to even ask what you were doing," Thelma said as she got out of the car, "but if you were out here that fast, I'm sure you weren't resting."

"I rested, Mom." Sam started taking out the bags of groceries. "Did you leave anything behind for anyone else?" he asked when he saw how much his mother had bought.

Thelma also started to take bags out. "I only bought what you needed, Sam. You had nothing in the house – at least nothing that was fit for human consumption. I am going to have to clean out your refrigerator, though." She started to the door leading into the laundry room. "Don't you ever clean that thing out?" she asked over her shoulder.

"I've been a little busy." Sam followed his mother in, his arms full of bags. "And I just cleaned it out so there's plenty of room." He looked at what he was carrying as well as his mother and what was still in the car. "Well, I think there should be enough room."

"You were supposed to be resting," Thelma reminded him, "and busy or not, if you cleaned out the refrigerator weekly, it wouldn't get that bad." Thelma paused in front of the dryer that was running and had the basket of laundered clothes on it. She looked back at Sam and just shook her head.

He put an innocent look on his face and just shrugged. "They had to get done."

"Uh huh. Put those bags down in the kitchen and then I want you to take yourself to the living room."

Sam put the bags down on the island in the kitchen and headed back out of the room again. "I can finish helping get the groceries in," he stated firmly. "Tell her, Al, it's just some groceries."

"Oh no," Al said holding his hands up. "I'm not getting in the middle of this one. You're on your own, Kid."

"Thanks a lot, Al." Sam took the bags from his mother's arms and put them down as well. "I'm going to go bring in the rest of groceries and then I'm going to…"

"Then you're going to do as you're told," Thelma said over riding him. "There's not a thing you need to do that I can't do for you."

"But I don't want you to…"

Thelma held up a hand to stop the flow of words. "I'm serious, Sam. You've already been doing more than enough running around the last couple of days. Your discharge instructions said you were supposed to get rest but you really haven't done that." She took hold of his forearms and pulled him close. "If you don't want me to worry about you, Honey, don't give me reason. You don't need this to relapse."

"Ok, Mom," Sam said with a sigh. "Will you at least let me fold the clothes I washed? I can do that sitting down in the living room and then I'll feel like I'm doing something."

Although Al had said he was on his own, this plan had merit. "I could help him with that."

"Oh really?" Thelma asked, eyebrows raised. "If I recall correctly, you're supposed to be resting just like my son is. What is about that that the two of you don't understand?" Thelma looked back over to Sam. "You can fold the clothes in that basket but that's it. When you're done with that, I want you to rest. You looked exhausted and this hasn't been an easy day."

"Ok, Mom. I'll just do that."

Al, chastised, nodded. "Ok."

"Why am I having a difficult time believing you?" Thelma started to empty the grocery bags while Sam went to the car to get the rest of them. "I don't suppose you have the name and number of his doctor here do you?" she asked Al. "He's supposed to make an appointment within a week of leaving the hospital and I've got a feeling he might not get around to it without some prompting."

Al shrugged. "I might have it on my rolodex at home but Sam doesn't keep one. His memory pretty well makes one unnecessary. Don't worry. I'll make sure Sam gets his appointment set up. We'll have to make sure that both of our appointments are synched up."

An angry voice coming from behind them interrupted. "His name's Dr. Masters and I won't be able to call him until Wednesday because of the holiday – and I will call him. I don't need anyone checking up on me." Sam dropped the last of the grocery bags down. "I'm going to get that laundry done." Without saying anything else to his mother or friend, Sam left the room.

Al rolled his eyes and yelled after him. "Oh come on Sam, you know what I mean. If you're going to be taking me back and forth to the doctors and you're going to be going back and forth to the doctors, then it just makes sense that we do it at the same times or else that's all we'll be doing."

Sam ignored Al's yelled words. He grabbed the laundry basket and brought it into the living dropping it down on the floor before sitting next to it. He started folding the clothes in the basket with quick, choppy motions. "I can call a doctor's on my own," he complained to himself. "I don't know why they don't think I can do that by myself. Geez, you'd think I'd never taken care of myself before."

Al watched the kid take the basket into the living room and sighed. Sam seemed headed to another of his 'moods' and Al figured it might take awhile to get him out of it. He turned to Thelma. "I think he might be feeling..." Al couldn't quite figure the right words and finally settled with "...that we think he's incompetent."

Thelma let out a breath. "I didn't want him to think that. I'm just worried that with everything else on his mind, it might just get lost. She put the carton of milk she had in her hand down and started to the kitchen door. "I should go smooth things over with him."

She stopped in the living room door and watched as Sam roughly took care of his laundry before coming in and sitting on the sofa he was leaning against. "I'm sorry, Honey. I know you'll take care of setting up the appointment. I just wanted to make sure."

"I know, Mom." By now, Sam was angrier at his own reaction than he was his mother trying to take care of him. "I'm sorry I got short with you."

Thelma leaned down and kissed the top of her son's head. "I'm going to go start that fried chicken I know you love." She got up and left the room having stopped herself from reminding him once again to rest.

When Thelma returned to the kitchen, Al got up and hobbled into the living room. "Mind if I join you?" he asked.

Sam glanced over to Al. "Suit yourself," he said.

Al sat down next to him and reached to pull out something to fold. "Really, Sam, I'm just wanting us to make sure things are synced up. You know that once this cast is off they want me doing therapy. God knows when they'll let me drive again, not that I have anything to drive at this point. That's all I meant about making sure you have your appointments."

"It's one. It's just one appointment. I just need a follow up and then I'll be cleared. I had strep throat, for crying out loud, it's not like I got hit by a car again." Briefly, there was a tugging match as Sam and Al both reached for the same article of clothing. Sam let go of it allowing Al to take it. "I'm glad Mom's here. I haven't seen her for a while and you know I'll drive you anywhere you have to go. I just don't want to be handled with kid gloves. I don't think that's a lot to ask."

Al sighed. "Ok. One appointment." He folded the item that Sam let him 'win.' "I guess this past year you went to so many doctors and the snowball effect of multiple follow ups that I just figured it could be more."

That managed to get a small smile out of Sam. "I think I've spent more time in doctor's offices and hospitals this year than I did when I was a resident." He pulled the last item from the basket and folded it. "I'm going to put this away. I'll leave yours in the office." He surveyed what he had in hand and thought about what was in still in the dryer. "Are you going to need anything from your place if you're going to be here a few days or will this all be enough?"

Al considered the clothes he'd bought and the ones that Sam had purchased for him along with what they had in the cabin. "I think I'll be ok at least until your mother leaves." He paused. "I'll probably have to be here until the leg heals though. I can't even consider buying a new car until that happens."

"I guess we're going to be roommates for a couple of months then. I'll take you by your place to pick up more stuff." Sam started out of the room but stopped and came back. "I'm going to see if I can get some work done in the office." He put the pile of clothes down on the coffee table and reached between the couch cushions until he found the remote control that he handed to Al. "Here's the remote so you can watch some TV."

Al looked at Sam and grimaced. "You know I don't want to tell you what to do, Sam, but your Mother seemed pretty adamant about what she considered 'resting.' I don't think working in the office is gonna pass muster."

"I know that," Sam sighed. "Mom's just going to have to understand that I consider that relaxing. It's not like I'm going to go lift weights or something like that."

"Yeah. I know that but she's already over concerned today. Maybe it would be a good idea just to do what you'd talked about before. You know, put a movie in and munch popcorn."

"I don't want to do that," Sam explained slowly. "I want to go into my office. I want to turn on my computer. I want to catch up on some work. That's what I want to do right now. Maybe later I'll watch a movie but right now, I'm too keyed up to just sit and do that."

"Fine. Suit yourself. I'm just saying I've seen how you are around your mother, Sam. Just be prepared." He turned on the TV and surfed the channels finding a college basketball game.

As Sam walked by the kitchen, he heard the noises of his mother putting groceries away and taking out pots and pans. "Do you need any help in here?" he asked stepping just inside the room.

"Sam, what are you doing up?" Thelma asked when she saw Sam standing in the doorway, folded laundry in hand.

"I've been up," Sam reminded her. "I was folding the laundry that I did earlier. Now I'm going to put Al's in the office and get some work done."

Thelma sighed. "Yes, I know you've been up and you said you'd be folding laundry while in the living room. I thought you were going to lie down when you were done with that." She walked up to him and put her hand on his upper arm. "You're not slowing down a bit." She paused. "What did the doctors orders say about rest?"

"Mom," Sam began then stopped, putting his head down. He took a deep breath and let it out before looking up at his mother again. "I can relax while using the computer just as much as I can just sitting and doing nothing. Resting means not doing anything strenuous and I'm not." He begged her to understand with his eyes. "I just need to do something normal right now."

"But resting also means allowing your mind to rest. I've seen you, Sam. Sometimes when you're thinking through something you get as tired as when you've been out on the basketball court or in one of your martial arts activities. She smiled. "Sometimes even more so."

"So instead you want me to just sit and think about doing work." He sighed. "Mom, I can't turn my mind off. It doesn't work that way."

"Have you ever tried?"

"Tried what?"

"Just letting your mind rest along with your body. Letting everything go."

"I tried that right after the plane crash," Sam answered sarcastically. "Except I was in coma so I wouldn't really recommend it." He saw the effect his words had on his mother and quickly regretted them. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It just...I can't change who I am."

Thelma was shocked by the reminder of the time she'd almost lost him. Although he quickly apologized, tears sprang to her eyes. "Oh honey, I don't want you to change who you are, just how you get through things sometimes. You've always pushed yourself so hard, following so many paths." She remembered something that Al had said earlier, about the piano and that that was one time he felt Sam relaxed. "Would you play the piano for me?"

Sam put the pile of laundry down on the island and pulled his mother into a hug when he saw the tears in her eyes. Again, he apologized. "I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to say that. You know I didn't mean anything by it." He took a deep breath. He didn't want to disappoint his mother but he also didn't want to sit at the piano then. "I'll play for you later, I promise. Right now I just need to do something for me." He released her and took a step back. "Just for a little while, Mom, I need to do what I want, when I want, where I want. Please understand."

Seeing the look in her son's eyes, Thelma couldn't refuse his request. "All right, Sam, but just for a little while, ok?"

"Ok, just a little while." Sam looked around the kitchen seeing the groceries that were still on the island and the pans his mother had put on the stove. "You sure you don't need some help in here first?"

"I'm fine. It's like Al said the other day, good food is what you need to get healthy. I'm going to see you have it."

"I don't doubt you will, Mom. If you need anything, I'll be in the office."

"You go on," Thelma said and nudged Sam out of the room.

He went into the office and turned on the computer. While he waited for it to boot up, he straightened up in the room a little. The pile of papers that he'd left on the sofa before leaving on vacation he put on top of the file cabinet in the closet to take care of later. The few books that he'd left on his desk, he put back in their places on the bookcase.

When he sat down the computer had booted up and he logged into his email. When he saw the number of unread messages in his inbox, he groaned. There were a lot more than he'd been hoping to see. As he started to look through the subject lines of them, he saw that more than half of them were about his appearance on the cover of _Time_. He created a directory for them and moved them there to deal with later. As he did, he realized that he hadn't checked the answering machine in the living room. No doubt there were more than a few messages on it. He was tempted just to erase them all. If anything were truly important, the caller would call him back.

Once all the emails regarding _Time_ were moved, he started sorting out the spam that had slipped through his filters and landed in his inbox. Once that was deleted, there was a much more manageable amount of unread messages left. He opened the first one to read and then answered.

After an hour, he'd finally finished with all of the email and sat back from the computer stretching. He was tired, he'd freely admit that. He swiveled around in the chair and looked thoughtfully at the sofa for a few seconds before getting up and going over to it. It was a tight fit to stretch out on it, he had to curl up, but he was soon lying on it, head pillowed on his arm.

When his mother came into the office a half hour later to put Al's laundry that had been left in the kitchen there and to pull Sam away from the work he was doing, she found him asleep on the couch. Slipping out of the room, she went to the linen closet and got a blanket from it, bringing it back in the office, and draping it over her son. "Well, you've finally slowed down and rested," she whispered to him as she brushed his hair back from his forehead.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Dinner was finished and Thelma was washing the dishes in the kitchen. She'd sent the men into the living room to relax and watch TV.

Sam had slept until shortly before dinner when Al had gone in to wake him. He'd been unusually quiet during dinner and didn't eat very much. When Thelma questioned him, he said it was because the antibiotic took away his appetite. Even the peach cobbler she made for dessert, his favorite, he'd barely picked at.

Now both Sam and Al were in the living room watching TV. From the sounds she was hearing, she supposed it was one of the many college bowl games that would be on in the coming days.

She'd again brought up the subject of the piano during dinner but Sam seemed disinterested in playing it tonight. She thought it best not to push him on it.

When the last dish was washed and put away, Thelma went to join the men in the living room.

Al looked up as Thelma walked into the room. "Would you like to sit next to Sam?"

"No, that's quite all right, Al. You stay there where you're comfortable. I'll just sit over here." She sat in the armchair that was kitty corner to the couch Sam and Al were sitting on. From that vantage point, she could watch both the TV as well as her son.

After few minutes, Thelma got up and moved over to the couch. She sat down on the arm of it next to Sam and put her arm around him. "Do you want me to get you anything, Honey? You didn't eat a lot at dinner."

Sam looked up at his mother and a ghost of smile crossed his face. "No thanks, Mom. I'm all set."

Thelma couldn't resist the urge to brush her hand over his forehead. "Is you stomach upset?"

"Just a little." Sam leaned into his mother where she sat by him glad for the closeness. "It's just the medicine. It usually does this."

"At least you're not as sick as a dog like you were back in March," Al commented looking over to the two of them. "I didn't think you'd be able to eat anything again without it coming right back out."

Sam grimaced at the reminder. "Gee, thanks for reminding me about that. There's a memory I wouldn't want to lose."

Al gave Sam a weak smile. "Sorry." Texas A&M scored another touchdown. "All right!" he shouted. "That's what I'm talking about."

"I take it your team is winning, Al?" Thelma got up from the arm of the sofa and moved back to the chair.

"Oh yeah, his team is winning all right." Sam looked over to his friend. "Next time you want to make a friendly wager on a football game, remind me not to get involved."

Al grinned. "Well, Kid, I told you I'm lucky."

"Hmmm lucky. You sure this isn't being shown tape delay?" Sam asked the question good-naturedly with no hint of accusation.

"Do they do that now?" asked Thelma.

"Do what, Mom? Show the game in tape delay? I don't think so. Besides, this is being played in California."

"Yeah, Thelma, this is a live game. Sam's just grousing 'cause Texas A&M's cleaning BYU's clock."

"Actually, I could care less who wins. I'm grousing 'cause I'm gonna have to deal with Weitzman if BYU loses. That man's enough to make me want to stand in the street and hope that something runs me over."

As they watched, the BYU quarterback was sacked yet again. "Oh. That must have hurt," Al commented.

"Oh, that poor young man," Thelma gasped. "Why do they all have to pile up on him like that?"

"He's the quarterback," Al shrugged. "Lead the team, take the hits." He turned to Sam, "Which is sorta what you'll be doing with Weitzman."

Sam grimaced at the reminder that he'd be dealing with Weitzman alone the next time the man came for a visit unless BYU somehow managed to pull off a win in the game. "I'll get you for this one. You know all those budget reports that are coming due? I'll make sure they land square on your desk."

Al laughed. "You think that scares me? What would really scare me is if you planned on working on them. A genius you might be, but you're no whiz kid when it comes to budgets."

Sam smiled sweetly. "Well, I was planning on taking a crack at them first. I don't want you to bear the brunt of all that hard work."

Thelma watched as the two teased each other back and forth and some of the worry she'd felt melted away as she watched Sam relax into the playful banter.

"Oh please. Just give them to me. You start working on them; I just have to fix what you do." Seeing Thelma's mild shock at his words Al added, "You work on the computers and physics, which is what you want to do anyway. Leave the money stuff to me."

"Now where would the fun in that be?" Sam got up from the sofa. "I'm gonna go make some popcorn. Anyone else want some?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. Sounds good."

"I'll have some too, Honey." Thelma waited until Sam was out of the room before saying to Al in a quiet voice, "I take it he hasn't gotten much better at managing money. I swear the boy could do calculus when he was five but he still can't keep a balanced checkbook. You'd think that would be fairly easy for him."

"Well, Einstein couldn't keep a checkbook either. Must be that ability to understand the universe instead of the little things," Al reasoned.

"Sometimes I'm surprised he hasn't bankrupted himself." Thelma sighed softly, "Between the fact that he's never been very good at keeping track of his money and his need to help others...well...sometimes I'll admit it does amaze me."

"Sam's pretty frugal, which is his saving grace. Since he doesn't spend that much, he doesn't have to worry about getting close to the edge." Al grinned. "Besides, I got him a good accountant who watches over those little things for him. As to his helping others, I'm sure Eddie makes sure he doesn't go overboard on the charity stuff."

Sam came back into the room carrying a basket of laundry just after Al finished speaking and missed what had been said. "I almost forgot I put in the second load," he said a little unsure. "You were talking about me, weren't you?

"A little, Kid." Al picked up quickly on Sam's uneasiness. "Just pointing out that you and Einstein have several things in common."

"Oh, not the _Time_ thing again." Sam dropped the basket down on the floor and sat down by it, his back against the couch. "I still don't know why they had to compare me to Einstein on the cover. You should have seen all the email I had because of it. While I'm thinking about it, can you reach over and erase anything on the answering machine, Al? If anything's important, I'm sure they'll call back."

"And what if they don't, Kid? Don't worry; I'll listen to the messages tonight after you go to bed. You might not like hearing the praise but I like hearing it for you. Anything else, I'll leave them on the machine."

"Who says I'm going to bed before you? Just erase them or I'm going to do it when I get up from here. Either way, they're going."

Thelma looked over at Sam, concerned by the tiredness that radiated from him and tried to soothe him. "We weren't talking about the _Time_ issue. Al just told me that Einstein couldn't balance his checkbook either."

Al sighed. "Listen, Kid, some of the people that might be calling could be our congressional supporters. Hell, I wouldn't doubt that the president called. Point is, one of us should hear those kudos. You don't want to, fine, I understand. Just let me take care of it."

Sam looked back and forth between his mother and friend as both tried to smooth things over. Trouble was, he didn't want anyone to do any smoothing. "I honestly don't care who called. I really don't. If anyone asks, just tell them the damned thing broke." He threw down the sweatshirt he was folding. His good humor from earlier was quickly evaporating. Getting up from the floor, he reached over Al to the answering machine on the end table and pushed the button to delete the messages on it. "There, it's done and I'll take responsibility for it." He looked over to his mother, "and it makes me feel so much better knowing the two of you were talking about how I can screw up my finances."

Al and Thelma both looked at Sam as if he'd grown a new head. This just wasn't like him.

Before anyone could say anything else, a faint beep came from the kitchen. "Popcorn's done," Sam said unnecessarily. His desire for it had gone the way of his good humor but he went to get it anyway.

Al watched as Sam left the room before commenting, "He's touchier than normal."

Thelma looked with concern at the doorway Sam had gone through. "Something's not right. I know Sam can be moody sometimes and he has a quick temper but this just isn't like him. I'm worried about him," she said unnecessarily. "I wish it weren't the weekend and a holiday."

Al only nodded as the younger man walked back into the room.

Sam carried two bowls of popcorn. The smaller of the two he handed to his mother, the larger he handed to Al. "Sorry I lost my temper," he said as he sat back down on the floor. It seemed he was offering that apology a lot lately.

Al sighed. "What's going on, Sam?"

"Nothing's going on," Sam sighed. He looked between his mother and friend, saw matching looks of concern, and sighed again. "I don't know. I just feel out of sorts is all."

"Yeah, but why?" Al asked in equal parts concern and curiosity. "I mean, I know this _Time_ thing has got you wrapped around an axle, but it's not the end of the world. Maybe if you talk about whatever's eating you, it'll help."

"I don't know why." Sam leaned his head back against the seat of the couch and looked up at the ceiling. "Maybe I just need time to get used to being home again with nothing going wrong. I just don't know."

Thelma moved from the chair to kneel by Sam's side. "Honey is there something you don't want to tell us? Are feeling sick again? If you are, I wish you would tell us so we can get you some help."

Sam shook his head where it rested on the couch. "No, Mom. I'm not feeling any worse than I have been feeling."

"Well, you should be getting better, not worse. I remember how the antibiotics affect your stomach but otherwise you should be feeling better, not worse. Maybe your mother's onto something."

"I'm not feeling worse," Sam clarified. "I said I'm feeling the same as I have been. I don't have any new symptoms so stop worrying about that." He tugged the sleeve of his shirt lower on his wrist and looked between his mother and friend. "Both of you need to stop worrying about that."

Al knew that pushing Sam wouldn't help. Still he was concerned for his friend. "Then it just doesn't make sense that you'd be this upset about things."

"I told you I don't know." Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Asking me over and over isn't helping."

"Ok, Sam. We'll let you be, won't we, Al?" The way she asked the question, Thelma didn't expect anything but agreement. "If you want to talk, though, you know we're both here."

"I know, Mom. I just don't know what to say."

Al knew Thelma was right. He gave Sam another concerned look and then turned back to the TV. The score was even more lopsided than before. He took a bite of the popcorn. "You sure you don't want any of this? It's good."

Thelma got up from the floor and moved back to the chair while Sam finished piling the now folded laundry. "I figured we could share that bowl when I was done with this." He was grateful that both had decided to stop pressing him to find out what was wrong since he didn't even know. "Looks like this is all mine." He got up from the floor with the pile in hand. "I'm gonna put this away. Try to save me some."

"No problem. If nothing else, you can have the half popped kernels," Al teased.

"There had better be some in there when I get back or else." Sam let the threat hang

The older man quipped, "Whatever you say, Sam."

The phone rang. "Can you grab that, Al?" Without waiting for an answer, Sam went into his bedroom with the pile of clothes.

Al picked up the phone. "Beckett residence."

"Is Sam there?"

"May I ask who this is?"

"Sure. It's Larry Baker. I worked with Sam on Dr. LoNigro's team back at MIT."

"I'll let him know. Hold on." Al normally didn't like to shout through the house, but with his leg, he didn't see much choice. "Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam yelled back from his room.

"There's a Larry Baker on the phone. Says he knows you from MIT."

Sam reentered the room now dressed in his MIT sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. He made sure the sleeves of the shirt were pulled down as far as they could go to cover his wrists. He quickly shook his head at Al and mouthed, "I'm not here."

Al's eyes widened and he covered the receiver. "I think he knows you're here, Sam. He could hear you answering."

"Tell him I just died then," Sam responded being sure to keep his voice pitched low so the phone wouldn't pick it up. "I don't care."

"Don't you like the guy?"

Sam didn't bother to answer the question, just gave Al a look that asked if he were slow. "Just get rid of him."

Al shook his head. "Sam is indisposed at the moment. Can I take your number?" He took the small pad of paper from the table next to him and jotted down a number and name. "I don't know when he'll be able to get back to you," he finished as if answering a question. "Ok. I'll tell him. Goodbye."

Sam waited until after Al had taken Larry's number and hung up the phone before saying anything else. He looked between his mother and friend. "Don't either of you say anything because I wouldn't talk to him. There are only two reasons that Larry Baker's calling me. Either he saw me on _Time_ or he needs a job." He paused for a moment then corrected himself. "Make that one reason. He saw me on the cover of _Time_**and** he needs a job. How the hell did he get my number? I'm going to have to change it to an unlisted one."

"Maybe he was just calling to congratulate you."

"Oh please," Sam said with a roll of his eyes. "You don't know this guy. You know how some people aren't the brightest bulbs on the tree? Well he's the bulb that makes them flash on and off annoyingly. Do you want to know the last time I heard from him?"

Al and Thelma exchanged looks and both shook there heads. "When?" Al asked.

"About four years ago and you're gonna love the reason." He looked back and forth between Al and Thelma gauging their reactions. "His wife had thrown him out for having an affair...with the pool boy. He told me he was trying to "discover himself". He wanted to know if he could move in with me for a while and could I loan him enough for a down payment on a car." He looked over at Al. "You remember the car I had then. The thing was always breaking down. I couldn't afford a new car for myself but he thought I could finance one for him. Uh uh. There can only be one reason why Larry Baker's calling and that's 'cause he wants something." Sam flopped down on the couch, grabbed the bowl of popcorn, and started to eat it. "Trust me, this guy is bad news."

Thelma looked thoughtful for a while then asked, "Larry Baker? Is that the young man you said was on academic probation at one point for streaking?"

"That's him, Mom." Sam slanted a quick look over to Al then over to the TV. "So, who's winning now," he asked to steer the conversation away from Larry Baker and the topic of streaking.

Before Al could answer, the phone rang again. "Whoever it is," Sam said before anyone could answer the phone, "I'm not here. I went on a really long trip and no one knows when I'll be home."

"Let's just let the answering machine pick it up then."

"That's fine with me but if it keeps ringing, I'm going to disconnect it."

After a few rings, the message went to voice mail. Sam's voice came on the line. "You're reached Sam Beckett's answering machine. Since I'm not always here, leave a message. I'll get back to you."

After the outgoing message on the machine played the caller's voice came through. Sam and Al both recognized it immediately as Gooshie's before he identified himself. "Do you mind," Sam asked. "I just really don't want to get on the phone tonight."

Al nodded. He picked up the phone. "Hey, Gooshie. What's going on? You normally don't call this late."

"I know, Admiral and I'm very sorry. I hope I'm not disturbing anyone. I just wanted to see how you and Dr. Beckett were doing and to congratulate Dr. Beckett."

"That's nice, I'm sure Sam will appreciate the kudos. We're both on the mend. My leg's gonna keep me down for a while. Sam's just getting over a strep infection. We'll both we working from Sam's house for the next few days."

"That's good, Admiral, very good. Well, I don't want to keep you. Everything's going well here and we're all looking forward to when the two of you get back."

"Yeah. I'll give you a call tomorrow. We'll need you to continue to hold down the fort while we're out."

Will do, Admiral. It's my pleasure. Well, my best to Dr. Beckett. Good night."

"Good night." Al looked over to Sam. "Gooshie sends his congratulations."

"I gathered. Things going ok there?"

"Yeah. Nothing to worry about."

Thelma looked between the two men. "Who's this 'Gooshie?'"

"He's one of the lead scientists on the project I'm working on." Sam shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Mom, I really can't tell you more."

She nodded. "I understand." She looked inquisitive. "Still Gooshie is a strange name. He sounds squishy."

Al smiled. "It's just a nickname. His last name is Gushman."

Sam abruptly thrust the popcorn bowl he'd been cradling in his lap at Al and got up from the sofa. "I'll be right back," he said before rushing from the room.

"What was that all about?" Thelma asked mystified. "Does Sam not get along with this Gooshie?"

"Actually, Sam and Gooshie get along great. They're the only two that really understand some of the really cutting edge technology."

"I wonder why Sam left so abruptly, then."

Al shrugged. He was concerned as well but with his leg, couldn't just jump up and follow him. "I don't know."

Sam returned a short while later and slouched on the couch next to Al. When Al handed him the popcorn bowl he pushed it away. "No thanks. I think I'll skip eating anything else tonight." He rubbed his hand over his face. Tiredly he said, "I'm almost tempted to take my chances and stop taking the antibiotic. Sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth."

"Why?" Al asked.

"Why what?" Sam was too tired right now to figure out what Al could be questioning.

"Never mind, I understand," Thelma said getting up. "I'm going to make you some tea. It might help to settle your stomach and you need to keep your fluids up."

Al looked to Thelma. "Oh. That." He gave Sam a pitying look. "Sorry your stomach's acting up again."

"Yeah, that. I should have known this was going to happen. The stuff I'm taking now is just a slightly less strong version of what they gave me back in March. I should have guessed the same thing would happen." Sam looked over to his mother. "Tea would be great, Mom, thanks."

The game had reached the final quarter. Al looked at the score. "You just want to turn off the game?"

"You can leave it on. Maybe it'll take my mind off of things." Sam turned around on the couch and tugged down the quilt that was on the back of it. "I should turn up the heat in here or just add more wood to the fire but I'm too lazy to get up again." Unexpectedly, he started to laugh.

"What?" Al asked, a bit surprised by the kid's mirth.

"Nothing really. It's just that even though I don't have to, I'm still lighting a fire to keep warm. I just think it's kinda funny that's all." His laughter tapered off and he looked over at Al. "You must think I'm really flipped today."

"To be honest, I'm not sure what to make of you, Sam."

"If it's any consolation, I don't know either." Sam's voice turned serious. "Really, I don't. I just feel like something's not...right but I can't put my finger on it."

"I wish you could figure it out and get back to your old self." Al paused and then explained himself. "I mean, I know you tend to be a private person and all, but this _Time_ thing isn't as bad as you make it out to be. And you're snapping when you usually wouldn't. Add to that the fact that you seem to want to just crawl into some hole and, well, it's just not you."

"I know it's not but I just don't know why this is happening. I don't want to tell Mom and get her all worried but I really was feeling better the day I got out of the hospital than I am now."

"The doctor said that the strep could turn into something else."

"No," Sam said shaking his head. "I don't think it's that. I don't have any symptoms that would lead to that." At the look of disbelief on Al's face, he clarified, "I don't have a fever, no shortness of breath, and my lungs aren't congested. It's not that. I just don't know what it is."

"Well, maybe we should visit the emergency room anyways."

When Sam answered, he was very firm. "No. I don't need the emergency room. Whatever this is, it'll pass. Maybe it's just because I didn't get as much rest as the doctor said I should."

Al knew this was not a fight he was likely to win. At least not now. "Fine. Then rest. Just don't do a blessed thing for a couple of days."

"So can I do a damned thing instead?" Sam asked with a tired smile.

"I'd say yes, but you won't. That's more my style," quipped Al an evil grin playing on his face.

"Ha ha." Sam concentrated on the TV for a few seconds when the score in the game flashed and sighed. "Looks like I'm gonna have to deal with Weitzman next time he comes out for a visit."

Al nodded. "Yeah. Maybe I'll just go play golf then."

"Right, golf," Sam snorted. "You're as likely to play golf as I am to...to...start dressing like you. Face it, Al; golf is far too sedate a past time for you."

"It's not about the game, Sam; it's about the networking that goes on during the game. I'm good enough to be acceptable on a foursome, but I gotta keep up the practice."

Sam looked at Al amazed. "You're always trying to stay one step ahead with the networking, aren't you?" Thelma came back into the room then and handed a mug of tea to Sam. He took it and thanked his mother. "Since you enjoy the networking so much, you really should be the one showing Weitzman around." He took a sip from the tea. "After all, you wouldn't want me to screw that up, would you?"

Al shook his head. "A bet's a bet." He paused. "Unless you want to play golf too."

Sam took another sip from the mug and mulled over the offer. "Nah, golf's not my thing. It would just make the time with Weitzman that much harder."

"Yeah, but it's a good skill to have, Sam. Never know when you may have to use it."

"You're surprising me, Al. I used to think you looked for every opportunity to have a good time but you're more of a workaholic than me."

Thelma sat quietly just listening to the conversation between the two men she knew better than to ask what exactly they were talking about. Still, it was interesting just listening to the little bit they felt free to converse about in her presence.

"Tell me, are all the women part of your 'networking' too?" Sam asked, a sly look gracing his face.

"That would be fine with me!" Al grinned. "Personally, I think women on the golf course are a fine addition."

"You would." By the time Sam finished the mug of tea, the games - both the football and the banter - had ended with predictable results. "I think I'm going to head to bed and read for a while," he said getting up from the couch. "I'll put the sofa bed together for you, Al."

"Ok, thanks." Al turned to Thelma. "Are you turning in too or would you like me to keep you company?"

"I think I'll stay up for a while, Al, but if you want to go to bed, you don't have to stay up."

While Thelma and Al discussed their plans for the rest of the night, Sam took the empty mug and popcorn bowls to the kitchen then went into the office, pulled out the sofa bed and put clean sheets and blankets on it. When he came back into the living room on his way to his bedroom, he stopped by his mother bending over to kiss her. "Good night, Mom."

Thelma caressed her son's face. "Have a good night, Honey."

Al nodded to Sam. "Hope you have a good night's sleep, Sam. I know today's been stressful for you. Tomorrow should be better."

"I hope. Good night." Sam went into his bedroom and closed the door softly behind him. Once it was between him and the occupants of the living room, he rolled up the sleeve of his sweatshirt. The rash he'd noticed there earlier hadn't gotten any better. On the upside, it hadn't grown any worse. He was hoping it was just one way his body was dealing with the stress of the day. The alternative to that didn't bode very well. He went into the bathroom, found a tube of hydrocortisone, and spread a thin layer on the reddened portion of his arm and wrist. With any luck, by morning the hydrocortisone would have helped and the rash would have disappeared. If not, he'd have to deal with it then.

Once that was taken care of, he went back into the bedroom. He found the book he'd been reading before they left for the ski trip on one of the chairs by the sliding doors. He settled into bed with it and started to read. He only read a dozen or so pages before his eyes got heavy. The book fell to his chest as he drifted off to sleep.

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When Sam went into his room, Al turned to Thelma and blew out a breath. "I sure hope he's better in the morning."

When Thelma answered, she was distracted. "I hope. I've just got a feeling."

Al was silent for a bit. "You know, while we were in the cabin, Sam talked about when he was younger. It sounded like he faced a number of obstacles growing up."

"You could say that." Thelma sighed softly. "We received recommendations from experts that Sam should be put into special schools. John and I never wanted that for him. We wanted him to have as normal a childhood as our other two. Maybe if we'd done that things would have been a little easier for him but I don't think Sam would be the man he is today. I hate all the teasing he faced as a child and I wish I could have made that better for him but I still think John and I did the right thing for him."

Al nodded. "I agree with you there. Your son is one of the kindest souls I've ever had the privilege of knowing. I wasn't criticizing your choices, just pointing out that he'd brought things up." Al had to admit, things from the past, and not all of them good, had haunted his time at the cabin as well.

"I'm glad he did. Sam doesn't talk about that unless it's with someone he can trust." Thelma sighed again. "I still wish I could have spared him so much when he was growing up." She looked in the direction of the closed bedroom door. "I guess I still wish I could spare him all the hurts."

Thelma and Al talked for a little while longer. Eventually, they both decided it was time for bed. While Al took care of the fire in the fireplace, Thelma slipped into Sam's room to check on him. The light by the bed was still on and the book he'd been reading was lying open on his chest. She closed it and put it on the bedside table. When she did, Sam rolled over and snuggled into his pillow. She tucked the blankets in around him then brushed his hair back from his forehead before kissing: him. "Sleep well, Son," she whispered. She turned off the light by the bed and made her way from the room. "He's sleeping," she said to Al when he looked at her, a question on his face.

"Good. He needs it." Al finished with the fireplace and then grabbed his crutches heading down the hall. "Well, good night, Thelma."

Thelma followed Al down the hall to the guest bedroom. "Good night, Al." She stopped just outside the guestroom and looked up the hall in the direction of the living room and Sam's bedroom. She just couldn't shake the feeling she had.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

The sounds of someone moving around in the room pulled Al from sleep. He opened his eyes, looked around, and saw a figure kneeling by the bookcase against the wall. The size of the figure matched Sam's size. Al leaned over to turn on the light on the end table and saw that it was indeed Sam. Not only was he surprised by the fact that the kid was in his room, but he was also confused by what Sam was doing. It looked like he was taking books off the bookcase and rearranging them.

"Sam?" Al asked. When he didn't get a response, he wondered if the kid was sleepwalking. Having heard one could cause a heart attack or something if you woke a sleepwalker, he decided to waken Thelma. She'd dealt with this before and most likely would know what to do this time.

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Dimly through sleep, Thelma heard a knocking sound. It was only when it persisted that she awakened fully, realizing it was someone knocking on the closed bedroom door. She looked quickly at the clock on the bedside table - 3:25 am. If either Sam or Al were knocking on her door at this time, something had to be wrong.

She quickly got out of bed and went to the door pulling it open to see Al standing there. "Al? What is it? Is something wrong?"

"It's Sam. I think he's sleepwalking." Al quickly informed her. "I wasn't sure what to do about it." He looked back to the room, worried about what Sam was doing.

"What's he doing?" Thelma asked as she went back to get her robe from the foot of the bed.

"He's rearranging books."

"Oh dear," Thelma sighed. "Is he in the office? Did you try talking to him?"

"Yeah. He didn't respond." Al looked back at the room again. "Shouldn't we do something?"

"We need to get him back to bed." Thelma waited until Al backed out of the doorway before slipping through and going to the office. Sure enough, just as Al had said, Sam was on the floor in front of the bookcase moving the books on the lower shelf. She approached him cautiously, rested her hand gently on his back, and leaned over to see his eyes. They may have been open but they were glazed and there was no awareness in them. "What are you doing, Sam?" she asked slowly and carefully.

There was a long pause and this time there was a verbal answer from Sam. "Movin' books," he mumbled without stopping what he was doing.

"I can see that, Honey, and you've done a really good job." Thelma reached over, took a book from the shelf, and put it back on another part of the shelf. "Look at that, the last one's in place so it's time for you to go to bed."

Al watched them, not saying a word.

When Thelma put her hand under his elbow and urged him to stand, Sam docilely did so. She then guided him out of the room. As she passed Al, they exchanged worried looks.

She guided Sam back to his bed. Once he was lying down, she pulled the covers back over him and brushed her hand over his cheek. He gave every appearance of already having fallen into a deep sleep. She gestured to Al, who'd come as far as the bedroom doorway to go out to the living room where she joined him, pulling the bedroom door partially closed behind her.

"What is it? Why does he do that?" Al asked, concerned.

"He's not well," Thelma stated very simply. "Something's wrong. I think that's why he's been so irritable and why he's sleepwalking again."

"What do you think it could be?" Al asked. "Stress from the _Time_ stuff?"

"No, I don't think that's it. I think that's a part of it but not all of it." Thelma looked worriedly to Sam's door then back to Al. She moved over to one of the couches and sat. "You know Sam as well as I do - maybe more since you've been with him so much over the past few years. Were his reactions today typical for him?"

Al thought back through the day and the way Sam had been reacting. "Well, sort of," he began hesitantly. "I mean, he's not one to head for the spotlight but at the same time, he took it harder than I expected."

"That's exactly what I mean." Thelma got up from the couch and began to pace in front of it very reminiscent of what her son would do when he was trying to puzzle something out. "And last night when you took him into that clothing shop, that's not like Sam to react that way. Didn't it seem odd to you?"

Al nodded. "Yeah. A bit." He allowed his mind to consider the possibilities. "You think it's something serious?"

"I don't know," Thelma sighed as she again sat down next to Al. "What I do know is that when I just touched his face it was warm - a little too warm. It could be because he'd just gotten up from bed but I don't know. There were a few times when he was younger that he had incidents just before coming down with something. I'm just worried that the medicine he's taking isn't working."

Al nodded. "We'll get him to the doctor's tomorrow. I'm sure they can figure it out."

"It's Saturday." Thelma pointed out. "We'll have to go to the emergency room and he's not going to like that."

"Tell me about it." Al had to obtain medical assistance for Sam before and it was never an easy job. The emergency room especially seemed to be a place the kid hated. "Still, if Sam needs help, we'll get it for him."

Thelma smiled slightly. "That tag teaming he was talking about." She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Why don't you go back to bed? I think I'll spend the rest of the night out here so I can hear if he gets up again. The last thing we need is for Sam to decide to go take a walk outside." As she finished the sentence, Thelma jumped up from where she was sitting. "The sliders in his room. I better make sure they're locked."

"He'd go outside?" This was a new thought for Al.

Thelma stopped outside the bedroom door. "I don't know what he'd do. He never did that before but that doesn't mean he won't this time. At least there aren't stairs for him to fall down."

Al watched as Thelma slipped into Sam's room and came back out a minute later settling once again on the sofa. "Go on back to bed, Al. I'll be here if he gets up again."

Al nodded. He knew there was nothing more he could do. With the damned leg, if Sam did decide to walk out, he couldn't follow him. Besides, Thelma knew what to do. "Call me if you need me."

"I will. He'll probably stay put for the rest of the night. I just want to be sure."

He hobbled back down to his room and tried to go to sleep. It was hard. Knowing something was the matter with Sam keyed into him. He found himself tossing and turning. Finally, he fell into an exhausted sleep.

It was still early morning when Sam woke up but not too early. The sun hadn't finished rising yet but there was enough light in the room to see by. The first thing he did was to look at the clock by his bedside. 7:15 was a little later than he usually slept but, according to some people, would still be considered early. When he got out of bed, he felt a chill in the air. It was definitely winter. Pulling on his thick robe, he left his room to go to the kitchen for some juice.

When he stepped in the living room, he saw his mother asleep on the couch. He went over to it, crouched down, and gently shook her shoulder. "Mom?"

Thelma had spent the night with an ear peeled to Sam's room, dozing at best. She'd finally fallen into sleep when she jerked awake at his voice. Bolting upright, she called, "Sam?"

Sam jerked backwards when his mother sat up so quickly. "Mom? What's wrong? Why are you sleeping out here and not in the bedroom?"

Thelma looked up at her son, concern on her face. "You know where you are? You're awake?"

"What? Of course I'm awake." He laughed uneasily. "Did you think I was taking a stroll around the house while I'm sleeping?"

Thelma gave him a weak smile. "Well, yes. That's exactly what I was worried about."

Sam was starting to get an understanding of why his mother was sleeping in the living room instead of in the bedroom. He took a step backward and sat down on the coffee table facing his mother. "Did something happen last night? Did I do something?"

Thelma reached over and took his hands. "Well, nothing bad. You just decided to rearrange some books...while you were asleep."

"Oh boy," Sam breathed out. He loosened his hands from his mother's grasp and covered his face with them - rubbing it a few times. He looked at the bookcases on the wall behind the couch. The books there looked like they were in the same places they normally were. "I went into the office, didn't I?" He felt his face flush a little in embarrassment as he asked the question. If that was indeed where he'd been, that meant he'd probably woken up Al who then got to see the show.

Thelma nodded. "Yes. Al came and got me. He wasn't sure what to do. I take it this has never happened around Al before."

Sam shook his head no. He got up from the coffee table, went over to the sliding glass doors, and looked out at the desert. "I didn't think 'this' has happened for more than twenty years." He looked over his shoulder at his mother. "I guess that's why you were sleeping out here - to make sure I didn't go out for a walk or something."

Thelma got up and walked behind him, putting her hand on his shoulder. "Yes. You haven't before, but the doctors told us back when this was was a common occurence that you could. I wasn't sure what else to do."

Sam put his hand on the cold glass of the door and leaned his forehead next to it. "Get a leash and tie me to bed?" he suggested flippantly.

Thelma closed her eyes painfully as she heard him say the words. "No, Sam. That's not even funny." She remembered after the puppy incident that Sam would wake up in nightmares reliving being bound. "Are you feeling well? I noticed you had a slight fever. I'm worried about you."

"I guess I'm ok," he replied with a shrug. Sam turned around to face his mother. "I still feel pretty drained." He thought about the rash he'd seen on his arm yesterday. He hadn't checked to see if it disappeared in the night. "I guess I'm ok."

Thelma looked up into his eyes, her concern evident. She raised her hand to cup his face. "Sam, I'd like you to get checked by a doctor today. Things just aren't...right."

Sam pressed his mother's hand to his face before gently pulling it away. "That's not necessary, Mom. I just need a little more rest. Now that I'm back home, I'll have plenty of time for that.

Thelma shook her head. "No Sam. It's something else. I have a feeling about it."

"Maybe later then, Mom." Sam wasn't ready to disregard completely his mother's feelings. Often times, she was right. He smiled at her, although the smile didn't reach his eyes. "How about if I cook breakfast for you and Al right now? I never get to and I bet once the coffee gets going and he smells it, Al will be up."

Thelma pursed her lips. She was hoping she wouldn't have to "tag team" her son, but with his health at stake, she was determined. "Fine, Sam. I'll help you."

"Nope," Sam leaned over and kissed his mother on the forehead. "You're going to sit and let me do it." He started in the direction of the kitchen. "No one ever wants me to cook by myself. I don't know why. I'm not that bad a cook."

Thelma followed him. "I'm not going to just sit, Sam. You want me to butter toast, I'll do that. You want me to set the table, fine. I don't just sit. And it's not that we don't think you can cook, Honey," she explained. "It's that none of us relish the mess you make when you do."

"I'm not that bad," Sam protested. "And you're not going to just butter toast or set the table. I know you." Sam reached the kitchen, went to the refrigerator, and pulled it open. It was the first time he'd opened it since his mother had gone grocery shopping. "Did you leave anything in the store?" he asked in surprise when he saw how full it was. He picked up the ham that was on the bottom shelf. "What are you going to do with this? This is more than the three of us can eat."

"Yes, and it will make good sandwiches after we have it for New Years Day."

"Mom, we can make sandwiches for a homeless shelter with that." He put the ham back on the bottom shelf, grabbed a dozen eggs and a package of bacon, and put them down on the island. "Since I know you won't just sit, do you want to put some bread in the toaster?"

She nodded and took the loaf from him. She went over to the toaster and pulled out a few slices. "Do you remember anything? What you were dreaming last night?"

"I don't remember any dreams." He pulled a frying pan out from one of the cupboards and put it on the stove before getting a bowl to crack the eggs in. "Why?"

She shrugged. "You never did when you were a child either. I just wondered if that had changed." She sighed. She'd need to wait for the Admiral before pushing again. She knew she was just thinking of Sam's health. Like his father, he could be a stubborn man.

"Somnambulism has nothing to do with dreaming," he started to explain as he cracked the eggs. He felt that if he used clinical terms, he could distance himself from the problem. "It happens during slow wave sleep, not REM sleep. It's just a myth that it's a form of acting out a dream."

She nodded. "That's what the doctors told us. They also said that stress could bring it on."

"It can. There's other stuff too." He poured the eggs from the bowl into the frying pan and began to scramble them. "Maybe it's just a fluke." He looked at the eggs in the pan and package of bacon still on the counter. "I should have done the bacon first. Maybe there's a reason I never make breakfast."

Thelma got up. "Do you have a cookie sheet?" As she asked, she turned on the oven.

Sam saw his mother putting on the oven and chuckled just a little. "I know it's bacon, Mom, but that doesn't mean you're supposed to bake it." He looked at her oddly. He'd never doubted her skill in the kitchen but this was a new one for him. "You sure you're feeling ok?"

She rolled her eyes. "Sam, you can cook bacon in the oven. We used to do it at church for the community breakfasts."

"If you say so, Mom. I don't have a cookie sheet, though. I don't exactly bake a whole lot."

"A casserole dish?" She asked. "How do you bake biscuits?"

"Bake biscuits?" Sam laughed. "The only thing I know about baking biscuits is eating them. The closest I get to baking is to make those cinnamon roles that come in a tube." He pointed to the cupboard above the sink. There should be a casserole dish in there.

Thelma pulled open the door Sam indicated and saw that she wouldn't be able to reach the dish. "Could you get that down for me?" she asked.

"Sure." Sam lowered the flame under the eggs, went over to the cabinet, and reached up to get down the casserole dish. When he did, the sleeve of his robe and pajama top pulled back from his wrist exposing the rash there. He quickly tried to tug one of the sleeves back into place with his other hand.

Thelma, watching the casserole dish, saw the rash. "What's that?"

As soon as he heard the question, Sam knew she'd seen it and it was too late to try to hide the rash. He put the dish down on the counter and covered his wrist again. "Nothing. It's nothing."

"Saaammm..." Thelma said, a bit of question in her voice.

"Ok." He pulled back his sleeve so they could both see the angry red patch. "I'm really not sure what it is. I thought it was stress related but it's not going away. It's not getting worse," he quickly pointed out. "It's just not going away."

"What could cause it?" Thelma said, looking at the rash.

Sam decided it was no use denying the probable cause. "It could be because of the Keflex." He went back to the stove rescuing the eggs before they could start to burn. "It's probably just one of the side effects from it and why I've been feeling the way I have been."

Thelma sighed. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"I was hoping it would go away. Would you mind making the coffee? Al's always got some crack about my coffee – not that he's wrong." It was an attempt to deflect more questions about the rash. Thelma probably wouldn't allow herself to be deflected but it was worth a try.

Thelma shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?" She finished putting the bacon in the pan and started the coffee.

Sam shrugged and turned back to his eggs. "Guess you gotta love me."

Thelma smiled. "Like that will ever change." She reached over and grabbed his arm, giving it a squeeze.

Sam patted his mother's hand where it rested on his arm. "Sometimes I think that's the only thing I can really be sure of." He looked down at the rash on his arm again. "I guess I should get this checked. If it is the Keflex, that can be changed. Let's just wait 'til after breakfast, ok. I don't think we need to go tearing out of here like something's really wrong."

Thelma smiled, thankful that she wouldn't need the Admirals cooperation after all. She didn't like the idea of ganging up on her son. "All right, Sam."

Sam decided to push his luck when his mother agreed so readily. "Maybe we can just wait until tomorrow. Who knows maybe this," he said holding up his arm, "really is just stress and if I have a day at home and it'll go away."

The sound of the kitchen door swinging open pulled Thelma's focus in that direction. Al walked in wearing a maroon silk brocade bathrobe and slippers. Yawning just a bit, he rubbed at his eyes. "Is that coffee I smell?"

Thelma nodded over to the pot. "Yes. Fresh brewed."

Al nodded and walked over to it, grabbing a mug from the cupboard. Noticing the pot was full, he asked. "You two want some too?"

"No thanks. I think I'll just have some tea." As he answered, Sam turned on the jet under the teakettle after he made sure there was water in it. "I think these eggs are about done." He looked over to Al. "Hope you don't mind scrambled."

Al nodded. Thelma indicated she'd like a cup and Al poured her some as well. Yawning again, he sniffed. "Do I smell bacon?"

She nodded. "In the oven."

"You know, Al," Sam said as he transferred the eggs into a bowl. "You're supposed to wake up before you get up."

"Yeah, you're one to talk..." He suddenly snapped his mouth shut, and looked at Thelma.

"I've told him what happened last night, Admiral."

Sam took the bowl of eggs over to the table. "Sorry that I woke you up. I'd say it won't happen again but I don't know if it will. I hope it doesn't." He went over to the cupboards over the sink, pulled out dishes, and brought them back to the table. "Can you grab some forks?"

Al nodded and went to the silverware drawer. He'd been over to Sam's enough times that he knew where everything was. "I've got to tell you, Kid. It was weird."

Thelma went to the oven and pulled out the bacon. She put the toast on a plate and put the bacon on another plate with paper towels. Carrying both over, she added to the conversation. "I know it seems odd, Al, but it's not dangerous."

"That's not quite true, Mom." He was going to explain further why sleepwalking could be dangerous but one look at his mother's face convinced Sam that that might not be a good idea and he quickly tried to cover what he'd been saying. "But most times it's not dangerous."

Thelma knew full well what Sam had intended to say. She and John had been advised when he was younger that although sleepwalking in and of itself wasn't very dangerous, the consequence of it could range anywhere from banging into furniture to falling or wandering outside. It was why she'd stationed herself outside of his room the previous night to try to prevent anything like that from happening. Since Sam didn't seem inclined to bring it up, Thelma felt she shouldn't either. Instead, she returned their conversation to the one they'd been having before Al had come into the kitchen.

"After we're done eating and dressed," she began in a voice that indicated she wasn't to be argued with, "we're going to hospital and you're getting checked out."

Sam opened his mouth to disagree with his mother but just as quickly shut it. He knew the look on her face and the tone of voice. "Yes, Ma'am," he instead said.

Al looked between mother and son. "Something going on?"

"Show him, Sam," Thelma ordered gently.

Sighing, Sam put down his fork and rolled up his sleeve so that Al could see the rash that was on his arm there. "It looks like I'm having a little reaction to the Keflex," he explained.

"Little?" Al questioned in surprise when he saw the angry red patch of skin. "That looks like more than just a little." He grabbed Sam's wrist so he could see it better. "Looks like it's itchy."

Sam pulled his arm back and rolled the sleeve down. When he did, he rubbed at the area. "I didn't notice until you said that."

Al gave Sam a weak smile. "Sorry. Maybe calamine lotion would help?"

"I tried some hydrocortisone last night. It didn't help." Sam picked up a piece of bacon from his plate and started to chew on it. "It should go away if I stop taking the Keflex"

Al took a breath. "Is this anything like a reaction to penicillin?"

Sam dropped the remainder of the bacon in his plate and started to push the eggs around before finally putting a forkful in his mouth. "If you mean anaphylactic shock," he said after swallowing the eggs, "then no. If that was going to happen it would have already happened."

Al nodded but gave Sam a concerned look. "Are you sure? Is there ever a delayed reaction for that? There was a guy back at the Academy that that happened to. Wasn't a pretty picture."

Thelma took a deep breath. "Could that happen, Sam?"

Sam finished taking a drink from his mug of tea, putting it back on the table a little harder than necessary. "I'm positive it's not going to happen. If it hasn't happened by now, it's not going to happen. It's just a small reaction, that's all." He looked between his mother and friend. "You'll see. Going to the hospital is going to be a waste of time. All they're going to do is tell me to stop taking the Keflex."

'Yeah, well, they'll probably give you something else too, Kid. The doctor reiterated that without your spleen, you're at risk from that strep," Al reminded him.

Thelma agreed. "Yes, that was in the paperwork the hospital sent home with you, Son. Now let's get to the hospital and let them check you out."

"Ok, fine," Sam sighed. "We'll go to the hospital. Can we finish breakfast first and can I have a chance to shower and change or do I have to go in my pajamas?"

Thelma nodded as she rose from the table. "Ok, Sam. Finish your breakfast and I'll go get cleaned up first. But as soon as we're all ready, that's the first place we're going."

Sam caught his mother's wrist and pulled her back to the table. "Sit down, Mom, and finish your breakfast. This isn't an emergency. If we wait an hour to give us all time to finish eating it's not going to kill me." He looked between the two disbelieving faces. "Geesh, why'd I bother getting an MD? I might as well be talking to the wall right now instead of the two of you."

Al looked at Sam, his hand holding the slice of bacon he was about to take a bite out of. "Only because you so often downplay in yourself what you'd be concerned of in someone else."

"I'm not downplaying anything." Sam looked between the two again then pushed back his chair. "Fine, we'll just go now. I wasn't really hungry anyway." He got up from the table and walked to the kitchen door. "Do you mind if I take a shower or do either of you want to sit outside in the bathroom just in case I pass out?"

Thelma also got up and followed Sam to the door. Now it was her turn to put her hand on Sam's arm stopping him. "Sam, don't be like this. We're just concerned about you. You have had a rash of illnesses of late and we're just concerned. Are you sure you don't want anymore to eat?"

Sam's stride faltered when he felt his mother's hand on his arm. "I've had enough. I'm going to go get dressed." He gently extricated himself from his mother's grip and continued to his bedroom.

He made sure the door was securely closed behind him then started to pull out clothes to change into before going into the bathroom. As he dropped his clothes on the counter by the sink, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and understood some of his mother's and Al's worries. He didn't exactly look well.

He took a deep breath, pulled open the door to the medicine cabinet, and took out the bottle of ibuprofen that was there and swallowed two of them. A headache had been pounding at him temples since he'd gotten out of bed and now it was starting to escalate.

He stripped out of his sleeping clothes and got into the shower. Although he would have liked to linger under the warm water, he didn't think that was a good idea. Most likely if he did, either Al or his mother would come in to see what was taking him so long.

He rinsed the soap from his body and turned off the water. He wrapped a towel around his waist and got out of the shower. Again, he looked at his reflection in the mirror and let out a sigh. It seemed some days it just wasn't worth getting out of bed. Since it looked like the two people in the kitchen were hell-bent on smothering him, it seemed like today was one of those days.

Letting out another breath, he grabbed a can of shaving cream and his razor. Maybe shaving the dark stubble off his face would help him to look not so pale.

Finished shaving, he dried off quickly, brushed his teeth and donned his clothes going back to the kitchen.

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Back in the kitchen, Al shook his head, as he watched Sam stomp off. "This has been a rough year for him and not just because of being sick. He keeps making statements about being able to take care of himself. I think he's trying to get back his independence."

Thelma sighed, looking after him wistfully. "I know he's grown up, but I can't help being concerned for him."

Al got up and walked over to her. Putting his arm around her, he led her back to the table. "I know. I feel the same but I also understand how he feels. When I had to spend all that time in the hospital years ago, it was hard to let people help me."

Her lips turned up. "I can imagine that it must have been difficult for you, Admiral." She looked at his coffee mug. "Can I freshen that for you?"

Al nodded. "Please. Then you sit down as well and finish your breakfast."

She agreed pleasantly. The two continued breakfast, turning their talk to Katie's baby. They were still talking about her when Sam walked back in.

"I shouldn't have snapped at the two of you," Sam said as he walked back into the kitchen. He leaned against the island in the middle facing the two at the table. "Look, I know you're worried and I know I need to do something about this. I just really need you to trust me that I know what I'm doing - that I know this isn't serious and please just stop worrying about it."

"Ok, Kid" and "Ok, Honey" exited from the two older people in the room simultaneously. They smiled.

"No," Sam said shaking his head. "Don't just say 'ok' to humor me. That makes it worse." He pushed away from the island and started to put the pans used to cook breakfast into the dishwasher. "I just feel like you both think I'm a kid and I need the two of you to make sure I do the right thing."

Thelma sighed. "It's not like that, Sam. We're just concerned for you. I can't just turn my heart off, you know."

Al nodded. "I know you want things back to normal again, Kid. It'll happen."

"When?" Sam asked putting the frying pan in the dishwasher with more force than necessary. "I'm ready for normal but no one else seems to want things to be normal." He shut the door of the dishwasher with less force than he would have liked to use. "You got run over on a ski slope, Al. You broke your leg, got a concussion, and then gangrene. Why aren't you being babied but I am? So, I'm having a reaction to the medication I'm on. I'm not the only one this has ever happened to but we're going to have to troop off to the hospital like some kind of party or something 'cause neither of you will trust me to go by myself."

Al took a breath considering. "How about if I stay here. You wouldn't mind going with your mother would you?"

Thelma looked over to Sam, not sure how he'd react. Over the past few days, he had gotten irritated easier than she'd seen in the past.

"I'd really like to just go by myself."

"Sam? Would it be so bad if I just drove there with you? I could wait in the waiting room?" she asked, trying to give him the space Al indicated he was craving but still wanting to be there with him.

Sam's first instinct was to deny his mother and demand that he be allowed to go by himself. He couldn't bring himself to do that, though, when he saw the expectant and worried look on her face. "Ok, Mom," he sighed. "You can come with me." He walked over to where she was still sitting at the table and enveloped her in a hug. "I love you, Mom. I'm not trying to cut you out. I just need to stand on my own."

She reached up and pulled him closer. "I know that. I don't want to meddle, you know that. I guess I just need to know you're okay. It's hard with you living here in New Mexico with me in Hawaii. I love being with Katie, but I guess after those years when..." She trailed off, not wanting to bring up the years when Sam was in school after his father died when things were strained and yet having the memories replay.

"Mom, I'm not just going to disappear," Sam assured guessing what she hadn't said. He released her and stepped back. "I know that's what it seemed like after Dad died but things are different now. You gotta believe that. I was in a different place then. I needed to figure things out when that happened but that's not going to happen again."

She smiled at him. "I know I'm being a silly old woman to be so worried, but now that we've gotten over that bridge, I'm just afraid when these medical issues come up."

"Well, don't be afraid." Sam took a deep breath and let it out. "Why don't you get dressed and I'll finish cleaning up out here."

Al nodded. "Good idea, Sam. I'll just get dressed, I can clean up later."

Sam looked over to where Al was. "Why don't you use the bathroom in my room and Mom can use the one near her room."

Al smiled. "That'll work too. Thanks."

"No problem. Do you need any help getting in the shower?" Sam forced a smile to his face trying to break the tension that still existed. "I don't want to have to haul your wet butt out if you trip and fall."

Al agreed. "Yeah, I don't think I'd like that either."

"Give me a yell when you're ready for me," Sam said as he started to pick up the plates on table and took them over to the dishwasher. He picked up the bowl of remaining scrambled eggs and looked at it speculatively. "Did I make too much or were they just that bad?"

Al shrugged. "I guess we weren't all that hungry, Kid. They weren't too bad."

"Weren't too bad?" Sam questioned, his eyebrows raised. "That doesn't sound like a glowing recommendation." He upended the bowl into the trashcan. "I picked out most of the eggshells."

"Oh...so that was what those crunchy things were," Al said with a gleam.

"I was trying to give them some texture." Sam feigned insult. "Geez, try to broaden a guy's culinary experience and that's the thanks you get."

Al laughed. "I think I have a broader culinary palette than you do Kid."

Whatever, Al. Go on and start getting ready and I'll be back to help you."

Al agreed and hobbled out to get his clothes. A few minutes later, he called Sam to help him into the shower.

"Here I...oh..." Sam said as he opened the bathroom door and walked in. He averted his eyes, grabbed some towels from the shelf, and put them down on the counter where Al could reach them. "I guess I should have put out some towels for you."

"Well, you have now. Thank you. You got something to cover this thing?" Al asked indicating the cast on his leg.

"Yeah. Let me just go get a trash bag and we can cover it with that." In his haste not to keep his friend waiting, Sam spun around fast and banged into the doorjamb on his way out of the bathroom. He sheepishly looked over his shoulder at Al. "I'll be right back."

Al smiled. "Yeah. You don't need to rush, Sam. I'm not going anywhere."

"I just don't want you to get cold." Sam quickly strode to the kitchen and grabbed a plastic garbage bag from under the sink. When he got back to the master bath, Al was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet and had wrapped a towel around his waist. Sam knelt down and wrapped the bag around the cast. "That ought to keep it dry." He rose to his feet and put out his hand to help Al up and into the shower.

Al closed the curtain once inside and turned on water. He picked up the soap and, as he lathered, he started to sing _Volare_ in Italian.

Sam sat down where Al had been sitting and smiled slightly at his friend's off-key singing. "Al?" he questioned after a moment.

Al stopped his singing. "Yeah?"

Sam opened and closed his mouth a few times unsure what it was he'd wanted to say. "I…uhh…just wanted to let you know I'm here if you need anything," he finally settled on saying.

"I figured, Sam. You know, since I first met you, you've always been there for me when I've needed you. I've always tried to do the same."

"I know that," Sam replied but too soft for Al to hear. He took a deep breath this time determined to say what was on his mind without backing down. "Maybe you should come to hospital too."

"You want me to, Kid? I'm really ok with staying here if you want."

"I just think it'll be a good idea for Mom. At least if you're there she won't get carried away worrying and imaging a whole bunch of things." Sam got up and started picking up Al's clothes where he'd dropped them on the floor and folded them neatly on the counter. "It could take a while and I know she'll just worry sitting there by herself."

"Ok, Sam. Whatever you want. I'd be happy to keep your mother company." He decided to do a little teasing. "Besides, how will I woo her if I don't spend time alone with her?"

"Didn't you bring in clothes?" Sam asked ignoring the teasing. He didn't see anything belonging to Al other than his pajamas.

"I put them on the counter. They couldn't have just disappeared."

"I don't see..." Sam lifted the towels he'd pulled out and found Al's clothes under them. "Forget it, I found them." He unfolded the shirt that was in the pile. "I think this is my shirt. I thought you didn't like my taste in clothes."

"Did I pick one of yours out? Must have been mixed in with mine. Sorry. Besides, that one wasn't half bad."

"Gee, thanks for the compliment." Sam folded the shirt and put it back on the pile of clothes. "Do you want me to get you one of yours? I don't care if you wear mine but it's gonna be big on you."

Al thought about it. "Well, if it's not too much trouble. You think you can match the pants and bolo?"

Looking at the items in question and the shirt, Sam came to a decision. "Maybe this won't be too big on you after all." He knew how fussy Al could be about his clothing and when he'd tried to match colors for him in the past, he'd been told he was woefully wrong. Personally, it was his opinion that some of the combinations Al came up with weren't exactly stunning but who was he to say.

Al was agreeable. "Ok." The water was turned off and he asked, "Can you hand me a towel?"

"Sure." Sam picked up the towel that Al had wrapped around him earlier and handed it to him through the curtain. A moment later, the shower curtain was pulled aside and he helped Al over the edge of the bathtub. Once he was sure his friend was secure and not in danger of falling, he moved to the doorway of the bathroom. "I'll just be in my bedroom if you need me."

"Ok," the older man said pleasantly. "I'll be right out."

Sam went over to his bed and started to smooth out the sheets. He didn't get very far before he sat down on the bed and then leaned over to rest on the pillow. Making the bed didn't seem that important right now. Besides, he reasoned, if his mother had her way she'd make him go to bed as soon as they got back from the hospital.

Al stepped out of the bath finding Sam lying down on his bed. He looked at the kid for a moment, wondering what the man was thinking before clearing his throat. "Sam? What's wrong, Buddy."

"What?" Sam said jerking upright. He hadn't been aware of Al coming into the room. "Nothing's wrong. I was just," he swung his legs over the side of the bed and started to get up. "I was just making the bed, that's all."

"No. You can't fool me, Kid. I've been around you too long. Something's bothering you." He smiled a calming smile. "What gives?"

"Nothing's bothering me," Sam assured. He saw the hard look Al gave him and squirmed under it, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I feel crappy, ok. That's it. Nothing's bothering me and nothing's wrong. I just feel off my game."

Al looked at Sam, knowing there was more but also knowing that pushing the man wouldn't help any. Until Sam was ready to talk about whatever was concerning him, he'd keep trying to convince Al otherwise. "Ok. Maybe it's a good thing you're going to get checked out then."

"That's it?" Sam was surprised that his statement hadn't triggered a string of questions from his friend. "That's all you're gonna say? You're not gonna dig for more?" He looked at Al with narrowed eyes. "Maybe you need to get checked out too."

Al shrugged. "What's the use, Sam? You'd just try to lead me away from what's really bothering you. When you're ready, we'll talk."

Sam gaped at Al in surprise. "Did you get replaced by a pod person while you were in the shower? You're giving up? You never give up." Letting out a small breath, Sam sat down on the edge of the bed. "I did it. I finally did it," he said softly. "I finally pushed you so hard you're giving up." He punched the pillow next to him. "Damn it!"

Al knew it wasn't giving up. He'd never give up on Sam. Never. However, sometimes a change in tactics could bring about the desired response. Seeing the man punch his pillow, he waited.

Not satisfied with simply punching the pillow, Sam picked it up and threw it across to the other side of the bed where it fell harmlessly to the floor. "What the hell am I so angry about?" he asked in confusion. "I hate feeling this way."

"Well, if the shrinks they made me talk to after I got back from 'Nam were right, you might be sublimating something. Just a guess, of course"

"I'm not sublimating anything." Sam got up from the bed and started pacing back and forth. "I just feel like someone's holding a live wire to me or something and I don't know why." He grabbed the prescription bottle from where it was on top of the dresser and looked at it accusingly. "It's probably because of this. Geez, why am I getting stuck with every side effect this causes? I would have been better off just riding out the strep without taking anything."

"Yeah?" Al asked in disbelief. "From what I understand, strep infections can get ugly. Have you thought that maybe you're feeling the side effects because something else is bothering you as well?" He looked at his friend with compassion. "It's not just the medicine that's bothering you, Kid."

"Please, don't try to psychoanalyze me right now." Sam put the bottle back and started pacing again. "Did it miss your notice that I was fine until I started taking that stuff? They were using a completely different anti-biotic in the hospital. I didn't feel like climbing out of my skin, or that my stomach was gonna turn inside out, or all the other stuff until I started with the Keflex." He stopped pacing and turned to face Al. "And I do know what a strep infection can do. Right now, I'd almost welcome that."

Al took a breath and let it out slowly. "You don't mean that." He shrugged. "As I said, when you're ready to talk, we'll talk."

"What do you want me to talk about?" Sam shouted, throwing his hands up in the air. "Just tell me 'cause I sure as hell don't know. Do you want me to tell you that for the past day everything I eat comes right back out of me? Maybe that my head is pounding? Or how about the fact that my whole body's aching? And I don't know if all of that is because of some damned medication or because of some infection and if it is an infection, my mother's just going to worry?" His words tripped over themselves he was talking so fast. "Is that what you want me to tell you? Or maybe I should add in that I'm so terrified that if she does start worrying about me, she's gonna have another heart attack and this time she's not gonna be so lucky and I'm gonna lose her just like I lost my Dad. Is that enough? Should I go on?" Running out of steam, Sam sat heavily on the end of the bed.

Al nodded. "Your mother, Sam. Most of this is about your mother."

"Yeah," he answered softly, "I guess so." He looked up at Al, a raw pain in his eyes. "I can't lose her, Al, I just can't. They should have never called her and told her what happened. She'd be in Maine with Katie if they hadn't. I could have called her and told her what happened without worrying her and she wouldn't have flown out here. I just want her safe."

Al walked over and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. "You think it would be better for her to be in Maine? Sam, she'd worry anyways. Here, she feels at least in control of what she's feeling. If she was away from you, she'd be worried no matter what you told her."

"She wouldn't know what was happening right now. I wouldn't tell her about that." Sam looked up meeting Al's eyes. "When my Dad died I wasn't there. I wasn't there to help him with the farm, I wasn't there when he had the heart attack, and I wasn't there when he died. Maybe I can't do anything to change that but I'm not going to be responsible for the same thing happening to my mother." He looked in his friend's eyes begging him to understand. "I just can't."

"None of that was your fault, Sam. You told me yourself; the Beckett's have a history of heart issues. Your mother may have married into that line but she comes from a different branch. What's the health history for her side of the family?"

"That's not the point," Sam said in exasperation. "I'm not looking for scientific reason here. Don't I get to just feel something without it having to be explained?" He got up from the bed and started out of the room. "Look, just forget I said anything." As he pulled the partially closed door open to leave, he was surprised to see his mother standing outside. "Mom? How long have you been there?"

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Thelma was just walking out of the bathroom at the other end of the house when she heard her son's shout. Concerned that something was wrong, she quickly hurried to his bedroom stopping just outside of the partially closed door

She could hear the voices of both Sam and Al inside. Though she knew what she was doing was eavesdropping, she couldn't bring herself either to walk away from the door or announce her presence. As deceitful as it was, this provided the opportunity to find out just what it was that was going on in Sam's minds.

Her heart ached for the self-imposed guilt that Sam had set for himself. It wasn't just the words that she was hearing him say that affected her so much. It was the pain she heard in his voice and under that, the scared little boy looking for someone to tell him that everything was going to be all right.

She was unprepared when the door was pulled open and Sam looked at her in shock asking how long she'd been there. She was a surprised by his sudden presence as he was by hers but she managed to recover from the surprise quicker.

She looked at Sam, a pained expression on her face. "I've been here long enough to know that you're worrying about me and blaming yourself for a whole lot of stuff that isn't your fault," she said sternly. The stern mask fell as she grasped her son's upper arms squeezing them gently. "Oh, Sweetheart, how could you ever think you could be the cause of what happened to your father or me." She pulled him into a hug, pulling him down to rest his head on her shoulder. "None of that was ever your fault," she said softly

She ran her fingers through is hair comfortingly then led him to one of the couches in the living room, pulling him down to sit by her. She cradled his face in her hands seeing the raw pain in his eyes. "Oh, Little One, how can you ever think anything that's happened could ever be your fault?"

"I wasn't there when Dad needed me," he said in a strangled voice. "And I keep getting into trouble and giving you cause for concern."

Again, Thelma pulled him down into an embrace rocking gently back and forth. "You couldn't have done anything to change what happened to your father, Sammy. Nothing. And you don't give me cause for concern. She pushed him back again framing his face in her hands. You make me so proud. That's what you do and if there's any concern, it's because you're my son and I love you so much." She brushed her thumb under his left eye wiping away the lone tear that had spilled over to his cheek. She smiled softly at him. "You're my Little One and you always will be and I'm always going to be your Mama."

It was Sam who sought out the comfort of his mother's embrace this time, pulling her close and holding her tight. He took several deep breaths trying to pull his emotions under control. "You haven't called me that in a long time," he said when he sat back from his mother.

"It didn't seem to make a lot of sense once you were taller than me," Thelma said with a little chuckle. She brushed her hand softly over his cheek. "You'll always be my Little One, though, even if I don't say it."

Al cleared his throat softly calling the attention of mother and son to where he stood in the doorway to Sam's bedroom. He hadn't wanted to intrude on the private moment between mother and son and had hung back. "I don't mean to interrupt but if we're all ready, maybe we should get to the emergency room and get this done and over with. The quicker we go, the quicker we'll be back." When Thelma looked questioningly at him, he explained, "Sam asked me to come to keep you company while you wait for him."

Thelma patted Sam gently on the knee. "I think that's a wonderful idea and Al's right. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back."

"I'll get your coats," Sam said getting up from the couch. He went out the foyer to get the coats from the closet there. Despite the fact that both his mother and Al knew what his concerns were, he still felt on edge and hoped that it was just a side effect of Keflex and once it was changed things would start to feel normal again.

"Let's get this show on the road," he said bringing the coats back to the living room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

The emergency room was crowded when they got there. Since Sam's condition wasn't considered an emergency, they were still sitting in the waiting room an hour and a half after they got there. The only difference was that the amount of people had thinned out in the last twenty minutes as people were taken in.

"This is nuts," Sam said. He got up from where he'd been sitting and started to pace the waiting area. He deliberately ignored the looks of annoyance the other occupants gave him just as he'd ignored them every other time he'd started to pace. At least no one was looking at him oddly due to the copy of _Time_ that he'd found on one of the tables. When he'd seen it, he's stuck it under his coat so no one else would see it and start asking questions. "Let's just forget it and go home. I know what's wrong. I stop taking the Keflex and I'll be fine. Let's not waste any more time here."

Al sighed. "And the doctor will probably want to prescribe something different. It can't be too much longer, Sam."

"I hate waiting. I feel like I'm wasting time." Sam abruptly grabbed his coat where it was on the chair and put it on. "I'm just gonna go outside and get some air. Let me know if they call me."

As Sam started out the door, one of the nurses came in. "Sam Beckett?"

Sam stopped just inside the door, head hanging down then turned to face the voice who'd called his name. "I'm Sam Beckett," he acknowledged without much enthusiasm.

The nurse indicated he should follow her. "What seems to be the problem?" she asked.

"I started on a 10 day course of Keflex about three days ago. I've been having some side effects from it." He pushed up the sleeve of his sweater to show the nurse the rash on his arm.

The nurse nodded. "Sure looks like it. The Doctor will have to be the one to make the diagnosis though."

Sam nodded and followed the nurse back to an exam room. "Do you think it'll be long before the doctor gets here?" he asked as the door swung closed behind them.

"No. We just have to take your vitals and then he'll be right in."

"Ok." Sam sat on the exam table and took off his sweater to allow the nurse to wrap the blood pressure cuff round his arm. As she checked his vitals and recorded them, he tried to keep in mind that this was routine. Soon the doctor would be in, he'd switch the antibiotic he was taking, and he'd be on his way. Even more importantly, he wouldn't be feeling all the side effects of the Keflex that he had been.

The nurse pursed her lips. "Have you been exercising or anything?"

"Exercising?" Sam echoed. "I try to work out when I can but I haven't really had much time lately. Why?"

"Well, your blood pressure's rather higher than what we'd like to see. Sometimes that's due to exertion."

"Great, that's just great," Sam said under his breath. He didn't say anything more until he saw the nurse's reaction when she checked his temperature. "Oh, don't tell me it's up," he groaned. This wasn't looking good and all that had been done so far was a vitals check. He was starting to get a bad feeling that he wasn't going to like it when the doctor got in the room.

"Just a little." She looked at Sam carefully. "Are you currently under any stress?"

"Everyone keeps asking me that." Sam blew out a breath. "No, not anymore than I normally am. The past day or two, though, it's felt that way. Well, not that I'm under stress," he corrected himself. "I just feel like I've got to constantly be doing something - like I can't stay still."

"Well..." said the nurse with concern, "...you do seem a little jumpy. It might be the medication, but it might be other things as well." She finished writing down the vitals information on the chart. "The doctor will be in a moment."

Sam waited until the nurse had left before getting up. He started pacing the small room. He'd only made one circuit when he stopped and laughed softly at himself as he realized that he must resemble an expectant father with all the pacing he'd been doing. He forced himself to sit back down to wait for the doctor. He couldn't totally contain himself, though, and absently started swinging his legs back and forth.

The doctor, a man in his mid-fifties by the look of his gray temples, came in. "I'm Doctor Tanner. Nurse Morton tells me that you believe you're having a reaction to Keflex."

"Yeah, I do." Sam agreed. "All of the symptoms I've been having seem to point in that direction. I was hoping I could get a prescription for an alternate antibiotic." He was hoping if he cut right to the heart of the matter, he could forego any testing.

The Doctor nodded. "You seem pretty sure that's the case. Why is that, Mr. Beckett?"

"I'm a medical doctor," Sam stated simply. "It's the most logical reason for the combination of symptoms I have in conjunction with the Keflex I've been taking."

"Ah," Dr. Tanner answered. "Can I see the rash?"

The nurse came back into the room before Sam could respond. "Doctor, we've pulled up more of Dr. Beckett's history." Based on the way she was acting, it was obvious that his medical history had been pulled up from the records in the hospital database. She handed a file to the doctor.

"Great," Sam mumbled. Knowing how much was included with that, he was going to end up stuck here for rest of the day while Dr. Tanner read through it.

Dr. Tanner took the file and scanned it. "You've been in several times in the past three years."

Sam squirmed just a little under the doctor's expectant look. "Well, it's been a...strange couple of years." Strange was a good word for it. Any period of time that included surviving a plane crash, being hit by a car, being mugged, and stranded in a cabin after a blizzard - not to mention a whole lot of other little things - could definitely be called strange. He'd never say it to Al, especially after the discussion they'd had about things being coincidental or not, but it really did seem ever since he'd conceived the notion of Project Quantum Leap and taken the steps to get it started, he'd spent more than his fair share of time in medical facilities.

"I'll say," the Doctor commented. "I see here you had a partial nephrectomy three years ago. As a doctor, I'm sure you know that puts you at risk for renal complications." He read down further. "And you've lost your spleen."

"And I have a metal rod in my left leg and my left shoulder was surgically repaired a couple of years ago to correct a Bankart Lesion. Like I said, it's been interesting."

The doctor looked pointedly at him. "I'm specifically talking about what could affect the outcome of this visit...doctor."

Sam looked down chastised by the doctor's tone. "You're right. I'm sorry." He looked up at Dr. Tanner trying to offer an olive branch. "I guess I need to stop thinking like a doctor right now and let you do your job."

"Thank you." He took Sam's arm and looked at the rash. "Although I suspect you're right. This does look like a classic reaction to Keflex." He took a breath. "Just to be sure, I do want to run some blood tests on you and a urinalysis. Keflex can affect renal function so we want to stay on top of that. You are running a slightly elevated temperature as well. That can also be because of the Keflex but I want to rule out anything else. Overall, though, I think if we just change your antibiotic, you'll most likely weather this well. If the blood test or urinalysis does show any renal problems, we can address that as well. Now, you've mentioned symptoms, plural, what others have you had?"

"Other…other symptoms?" Sam questioned. The doctor mentioning renal problems had stunned him. He'd never thought of any problems on that front. "Um…I've had a headache since I woke up this morning, no appetite since I started taking the Keflex and the last day or so I've had…uh…digestive difficulties. I've also been really agitated and tired. I have no energy."

"Hmmm..." the doctor said after Sam had listed the symptoms he'd been experiencing. "That's all pretty much in line with an adverse reaction to Keflex. I still want to run the lab tests just to be sure but I think a simple change in the antibiotic is all you're going to need."

"So, you're not going to keep me here?" Sam asked hopefully.

Doctor Tanner shook his head. "I don't see any reason to keep you. We'll let you know if the lab results give us reason to be concerned. In the meantime, let's get that antibiotic changed." He looked at Sam, "Have you experienced any problems with Zithromax?"

"No, or at least I don't think so. Then again, I didn't think I had a problem with Keflex until now."

"Good, we'll change you over to that. It's a shorter course of treatment than the Keflex so you'll be done with it sooner."

"Doctor Tanner," Sam started to ask hesitatingly, "last night...last night I was sleepwalking. Do you think it could be because of this?"

At Sam's indication that the new antibiotic should be fine, the doctor started to write a script for it. He was just finishing when Sam finished his question. Dr. Tanner's brow furrowed. "It could be." He began to write another script. "I think a low dosage of Diazepam should help that. You can take it before bedtime and even during the day if you're feeling agitated."

Sam accepted the two prescriptions when they were held out to him. "Thank you. I don't usually like to take that stuff but the way I'm feeling right now, I don't think I'd be able to sleep without something to calm me down."

With a slight smile, Doctor Tanner said, "I understand, Dr. Beckett. You need to take care of yourself. To be honest, we'd really rather not see you here as much."

"I can't say I enjoy visiting here…uh…no offence," Sam replied with a cooked smile.

"None taken." Dr. Tanner gathered the folder with Sam's medical history and prepared to leave the exam room. "Someone from the lab should be in here shortly. Once that's taken care of, you'll be free to go. I just want to caution you, though, that it might take a day or two for the side effects from the Keflex to abate completely so I'd like you take it easy for the next couple of days. The gastrointestinal issues may persist for a while even with the Zithromax. Unfortunately, that's a side effect of most antibiotics so there's not much we can."

"Yeah, I guess so," Sam agreed. "So I guess I should just do the usual for that. Drink plenty of liquids and if it's too bad, come back."

"That's about it. You might want to try a BRAT diet as well. That might help. Now, do you have any further questions?"

"No, I think that about covers everything."

"Good," Dr. Tanner held his hand out to Sam who took it in a handshake. "It was good to meet you, Dr. Beckett. If you have any other questions or concerns, don't hesitate to call."

Shortly after Dr. Tanner left the exam room, a lab technician came in to draw blood for the tests that had been ordered. Once the blood was drawn, the technician waited while Sam went into the small, adjoining bathroom in order to provide the sample for the urinalysis that had been ordered. Once that was done, the nurse came back into the room and he was soon free to leave.

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It had been about forty-five minutes since Sam had walked into the emergency treatment area. Al had spent the time with Thelma talking about various things in an effort to keep her mind off what was happening in the exam room. When Sam finally came back to the waiting room, Al nodded to him and both stood up. "Everything ok, Sam?" he asked. The same question was on Thelma's face.

"Everything's fine," Sam reassured. "I just have a couple of prescriptions that I need to get filled, that's all. It was like I said; I just had a reaction to the Keflex." He chose not to say anything about the lab tests that were being run. If it turned out that something showed up in them, then he'd tell them. Otherwise, there was no reason for either Al or his mother to be worrying about that"

Al nodded. "Ok. Then let's get them filled."

Sam nodded and grabbed his coat to put it on. "We can stop at the pharmacy on the way home."

Thelma also stood and started to pull her coat on. "You said there's more than one prescription, Honey. Are there two antibiotics now?"

"Um, no. One of them's for Diazepam." When he saw the twin questioning looks on his mother and Al's face he explained, "Valium. It's for Valium."

Al chuckled and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "I always knew you were high-strung, Kid."

Sam shrugged out from under Al's hand. "I'm not high-strung. It's because of the Keflex. Once that's out of my system, I won't need this."

"I didn't think that antibiotics could cause so much trouble unless you were allergic to them."

"If you have sensitivity to them, it can." Sam strode to the door leading outside not looking back to see if the other two were following him.

Al allowed Thelma to go first and he trailed the mother and son. At least Sam would be filling the new prescription and hopefully, this would alleviate the symptoms that both Al and Thelma had been concerned about.

Sam got as far as the curb and stopped there to wait for his mother and friend. "When I get home, I really am just gonna do nothing and forget about the rest of the world for a while." He drew a deep breath and looked over his shoulder at the other two. "I guess I've been a pain in the butt the last few days."

"Honey, you were having a reaction. It's understandable. I'm just glad things will be better for you now," Thelma stated, giving his hand a light rub.

"Yeah, Sam. Besides, it wasn't any worse from other times when you've been under the weather."

"Why does that not comfort me?" Sam led the way to where the car was parked. He unlocked it and waited until both his mother and Al were in before getting in himself and starting it up. "While we're out, do you want to drop by your place and pick anything up, Al? Now might be a good time. The way I'm still feeling, I think I'm going to take one of the Valium when we get home and I'm not sure how it's gonna hit me. I might not be able to drive later."

Al knew there was no "might". The way narcotic drugs hit Sam, it was likely the younger man wouldn't be able to walk let alone drive. He mentally went over what he should pick up once they got to his place. As several things were already at Sam's with the number of times he'd stayed over, it was a short list. Mostly extra clothes. "Sounds good, Sam. It wouldn't hurt to get a few things."

"Ok." Sam put the car in reverse and pulled out of the parking space. "I'll drop you off at your place," he said as he drove out of the parking lot, "then I'll go to the pharmacy and drop off the prescription. Mom, you wanna give Al a hand gettting some stuff together?"

Thelma nodded. "I can do that if the Admiral would like my help."

Al shrugged. "If you'd like. I really don't have much to pack."

As they neared an intersection, the light turned from red to green. As he started to drive through the intersection, Sam had to quickly slam on the brakes as a car decided to run the red light and almost hit them. "Damn it," he exclaimed hitting his hand on the steering wheel. "Didn't he see the light? I have a green light so he must have had a red. What the hell?"

Thelma, having put on her seat belt, was thrown forward sharply but no damage was done. Al too, had been wearing his seat belt but his leg jerked against the door and caused some pain. He grimaced but didn't call out. "At least your reactions are good, Kid," was all he said.

Realizing that he was still stopped in the intersection on a busy street, Sam accelerated again. "I'm sorry." He glanced quickly to his mother and then to Al's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Are you ok?" he asked seeing the grimace on his friend's face.

"Yeah. Just a little shaken up." He figured he could take some aspirin when he reached his apartment.

"Don't lie to me," Sam cautioned. "If you're hurting just tell me." He again quickly glanced at Al's reflection in the rearview mirror before looking back to the road. They were almost at Al's place.

Al gave a sigh, remembering the problems caused when he hadn't told Sam about his leg at the cabin. "Ok. Yeah, my leg hit the door. It jarred it and that hurt. Wasn't anything that could be done about it, though."

Sam could hear the honesty in Al's voice. "Thanks for being honest with me, Al." He pulled into a parking space outside of the building Al lived in and got out of the car to help his friend out. When Al and Thelma were both standing on the sidewalk, he gave his mother a quick hug. "It shouldn't take me long to drop the prescriptions off then I'll be back."

Sam got back into the car and pulled out of the space. He checked to make sure there was no traffic coming then made a U-turn in the street. He waved to mother and friend as he drove by.

There were a few other people in front of him when he got to the pharmacy. He waited his turn patiently and started to glance around the store. As he looked to his left, he saw a rack of magazines and groaned softly when he saw his own face staring back at him from the cover of _Time_. "Oh please," he silently begged, "don't let anyone recognize me." The last thing he felt up to doing was fielding more autograph requests.

Fate was smiling on him today as no one seemed to make the connection and it was soon his turn. He handed the pharmacists the two slips and was told that they should both be ready in an hour. He figured when he got back to Al's place they could just kill a little time there until they were ready.

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Al went into his apartment and quickly pulled the things out that he needed. Within a few minutes, he'd packed what he felt he needed. "Would you like a soda, Thelma, until Sam gets back?

"I'd like that, Admiral, but why don't you sit down and take it easy. I'm sure I can find some soda in your refrigerator. If Sam comes back and finds out you're up on that leg too much, he's not going to be happy." She frowned when she thought about her son. "The mood he's been in, I don't think it would be a wise idea to push him." Her tone turned thoughtful. "Maybe I should have gone with him. He was awfully upset when that car ran the red light."

"I'm sure he'll be fine. Sometimes Sam gets persnickety. He usually still gets through things fine."

"You're not telling me anything about my son I don't already know," Thelma agreed with a smile. She followed Al into the kitchen and ordered him to sit by simply pointing to one of the chairs. Once he had, she pulled open his refrigerator and surveyed what he had. "This is different, though. I've never seen Sam as…agitated…as he has been." She shook her head at the content, or lack of content that she saw in the refrigerator. "You're as bad as my son is about grocery shopping."

"Well, Sam said it was the Keflex. I'm sure that's all that's going on." At her comment about the food, he shrugged. "Nah. Back when I was active military, I never knew when I might have to leave quickly. I got used to just buying what I need for the short term."

Thelma pulled out two cans of soda, brought them over to the table, and sat down opposite Al. "I know he said it's the Keflex causing it. It still doesn't mean I'm not going to worry about him. Whatever the cause, he's not acting himself and I'm not sure letting him drive off on his own was in his best interest." She got up and went to the cabinet over the sink correctly guessing there'd be glasses in it. She brought two of them to the table. "Don't you dare tell him I'm worried about him. I heard what he told you this morning and I'm not going to be the cause of him getting anymore worked up. That boy tries to take too much on himself sometimes."

Al took a sip of his soda. "Thelma, I know you worry about him. Hell, I worry about him, but Sam's feeling the loss of his independence sharply right now. This year has been hard for him."

"I know that, Al. Don't think that I don't. I certainly don't want to take away his independence but I can't stop myself from wanting to protect him." She took a sip of soda and sighed. "It was so much easier when he was a little boy and skinned his knee. A bandaid and a kiss from Mama could make everything all better then. Now, I'm not even sure what he's doing half the time." She held up a hand to stave off any protest from Al. "I know. It's a secret project from the government and neither of you can talk about it."

"No, I can't talk about it." He then looked into Thelma's eyes. "However, you should know, though, that no matter what, I have Sam's back. I always will."

Thelma reached over a softly patted Al's hand. "I know that. I know you'd never let any harm come to my son and I take comfort in that. It's just that..." she sat back in the chair staring off into space. "I guess I'm just "programmed" to worry about him. You don't know what it's like to have such a dichotomy in your child. To have this little boy who can read a book by the time he's three but at the same time he's frightened of the monster he thinks is in his closet and he carries a teddy bear everywhere."

"Sam is unique. I imagine he always has been."

"Yes, he is unique but no matter what, he's always going to be my little boy. I know he hates it but I'm always going to see him as the little boy in his footie pajamas, following his big brother like a puppy, looking at everything around him with wide-eyed curiosity, and carrying that bear under one arm. He's always going to be my Little One."

"That's a mother's prerogative, but Sam's a grown man. Treating him like a child isn't what he wants or expects."

"I know that. Usually it's easy for me to let him go and remember he's a grown man. It's times like this when it's so difficult. It hurt me so much that when he needed me the most this year, I couldn't be with him. I couldn't be the one to sit with him and soothe his fears. I had to relinquish that to someone else - to you. You know," she said with a small laugh, "there were times I resented you this year because you could be with Sam."

"Sam's my best friend."

Thelma looked at Al for a moment. "You should have been a father," she said simply. Before he could ask her what she meant, the doorbell rang interrupting them.

Al started to get up to answer the page at the intercom next to the front door.

"You sit," Thelma ordered as she got up. "I'm sure I can get the door. It's probably Sam."

Al nodded. "Ok. There's an intercom by the door. You can call down to make sure it's him."

Thelma went over to the door and pressed the button to activate the intercom. "Hello?"

"Mom, it's me. It's Sam."

Hearing Sam's voice, Thelma pushed the button to buzz Sam in past the lobby. She pulled the door to Al's apartment open slightly and rejoined Al at the table. "Sam's on his way up," she told him as she sat.

A few minutes later, Sam came though the apartment door, shutting it behind him. He joined Thelma and Al in the kitchen. "It's gonna be a little while before they're ready," he told them. "You mind if I grab something?" he asked Al gesturing to the refrigerator.

Al nodded. "Yeah. I think I have some diet coke in there from before we left for the mountains."

Sam wrinkled his nose at the suggestion of Diet Coke. "Do you have any ginger ale. If not, I'll just grab some water."

"Sure, suit yourself. I don't think I have any ginger ale though. You'll have to go with water."

Thelma looked up at Sam. "I could make you a cup of tea." Looking at Al she asked, "You do have teabags, don't you?"

Al laughed. "Yeah, of course. Sam goes through them regularly."

"No it's ok, Mom." Sam grabbed a cup from the cabinet over the sink and filled it from the tap. "Water's fine. It's probably better. The doctor in the emergency room said I should probably try a BRAT diet for a couple of days until things…settle down."

"BRAT?" Thelma asked.

"Bananas, rice, apple sauce and toast," Sam responded by rote as he sat at the table with them. "They're easier to digest and don't have as many complex sugars."

"Oh. That sounds like what I feed you when you were a baby. Well, everything except the toast. Although you really did like zwieback when you were teething."

"Well, it should help things. I hope."

"So, how long did they say it would be, Kid?"

"Could be another few days or so. Unfortunately, the Zithromax can cause the same thing. It tends be one of the drawbacks of most antibiotics. Sam finished draining the cup of water then brought it over to the sink. "Is the stuff you're bringing in your bedroom?"

"No, it's over by the door," Al answered. "I guess you didn't see it."

"Um, no. I guess I didn't." Sam leaned back against the sink and rubbed his hands over his face. "I just want to go home and crash. I'm so tired."

"Maybe you should let your mother drive."

Sam hesitated mulling over Al's suggestion and appeared, for a moment to agree before shaking his head. "I can drive. I'm not going to fall asleep behind the wheel. I know better than that." He quickly looked at his watch. "The prescriptions should be just about ready. I'll take your bag downstairs to the car and wait for the two of you there."

Thelma looked over at Sam. "I wouldn't mind driving, honey. You do look tired."

"I can drive, Mom." Sam started out of the kitchen but stopped at the door. He pulled his keys from his pocket and looked at them for a second before turning around, going back to the table, and putting them down in front of his mother. "I guess maybe you should drive." He smiled at her crookedly and shrugged a shoulder when she looked questioningly at him. "I'm liable to run someone off the road right now if they get in the way."

"What?" Thelma asked, confused. "Whatever do you mean by that, Sam?"

"Nothing, Mom. I'm just not in a very good frame of mind and I wouldn't want to do anything anyone would regret. It's probably just safer if I don't drive."

She nodded. "All right."

Sam led the way out of the apartment. When they got down to where he parked the car, he took the passenger seat once Al was settled in the back. "The pharmacy's not too far from here. You just need to turn around, take the third left and then it's a couple of blocks up the street."

Thelma got in and adjusted the seat and mirrors. Putting on her seatbelt she looked to make sure everyone was ready before turning on the ignition and pulling out. Although she was being careful, a car pulled out of nowhere going way too fast in the parking area. Thelma pushed on the brakes as the car rushed by. Sheepishly, Thelma glanced over to Sam. "That was close. I'm sorry."

"You know," Sam said in a conversational tone, "I just might have hit him instead. I guess it's a good thing you are driving."

Al looked after the car that buzzed away. "It's the younger kids that are moving in. They don't have a clue about road courtesy."

"Everyone's in a rush to go no where," Sam noted.

Thelma finished backing out and followed the instructions that her son had given to drive to the pharmacy. Once there, she and Al waited in the car while Sam retrieved his new meds. When he was back, she asked, "Now how do I get to your house from here?"

Sam opened his mouth to start to explain but quickly closed it. "Let's just switch. It's easier if I drive than give directions right now. Don't worry," he added when he saw his mother's skeptical look, "I promise not to hit anyone. I'll be a good boy and stay below the speed limit."

She smiled and patted him on the cheek. "Of course." She got out and switched places.

Once they'd switched, Sam pulled the car out of the parking spot and into traffic. The roads were mostly empty and, in his desire to get home as quickly as possible, did go a little faster than the posted speed limit. He felt his mother's eyes on him and backed off a little realizing that she'd seen the speedometer. "Sorry. Guess I was a little carried away. It could be worse," he said in an attempt to deflect any criticism. "If Al were driving he'd make me look like a turtle."

"Well, not in town I wouldn't. Don't need anymore tickets." He noticed the drop in Sam's face through the rear view mirror and added, "Of course, I figure you still haven't ever gotten a speeding ticket."

"Well, you'd be wrong then. I have gotten a speeding ticket." He looked to his mother and saw mild surprise on her face. "It was a long time ago, Mom. Back when I was in school. I haven't gotten one since."

Thelma looked at Sam slightly in askance. "You were in school a long time. When did this ticket happen?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. It was back in '73 or '74. I don't really remember when exactly. I just know I got it, paid it, and that was that. I haven't been caught speeding since." He hoped she'd miss the fact that he'd omitted that he hadn't actually been speeding since then – just that he hadn't been caught.

Thelma smiled. "Well, as long as you keep to the speed limit, things should be fine."

"Of course," Sam quickly agreed with a weak smile. "He chanced a look at Al's reflection in the rearview mirror daring the man to say anything. "I'm a pretty safe driver."

Well," said Al with a small drawl, "Unless you're driving into the sun. You remember that time you missed the turn and drove right off the road? It was a good thing they hadn't started building on that lot."

"That wasn't my fault." Sam quickly defended. "I couldn't see anything and that could have happened to anyone. Do you wanna talk about all your near misses?"

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"What do I mean?" Sam swung his head around to look at his friend in the back seat with disbelief. "What do I mean?" he repeated. "I'll tell you what I mean." He never got a chance to tell Al just what he meant as his mother called out his name loudly. He jerked his head back around just in time to see that he was driving off the road and quickly corrected the trajectory of the car. "Just don't say it," he warned once he was back on the road.

Al laughed softly, "I don't need to."

"Shut up, Al, just shut up," he growled. He drove another few feet up the road before pulling the car over and stopping. He leaned forward on the steering wheel. "I could have killed us. I could have killed all of us because I wasn't paying attention. What the hell's wrong with me?"

Thelma put her hand on his back rubbing it gently. "Nothing's wrong with you, Honey, you're just a little out of sorts today. You're a good driver." She gave Al a pointed look over the seat back clearly communicating that now was not a good time for him to give Sam a hard time.

"Not today I'm not." Sam's voice was muffled as he continued to lean forward. "I should have been paying attention. There's no excuse."

Al, chastised by the look, which by its power he knew to be the one that Sam most dreaded from his mother, added. "Yeah, Kid. I shouldn't have distracted you. I'm sorry."

"No," Sam said adamantly. "It's not your fault. I'm the driver. I'm supposed to be in control and paying attention. I shouldn't let myself get distracted but I did." He leaned back and looked over to his mother. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"Well, we're almost home. Nothing we can do about what happened. Let's just get back to your house and then you can just rest. That's what you need," she finished. "Rest."

"Yeah, just some rest," Sam agreed. He put the car in drive and cautiously pulled back onto the road. For the remainder of the drive he kept well below the speed limit and held the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip. He would have preferred ceding the driving to his mother but that somehow felt like an admission of defeat - although that didn't really make sense. When he finally pulled into the garage, he let out a deep breath and dropped his hands to his lap.

Al thought about what had transpired. Sam was occasionally moody but generally, not as much as recent days had showed. He wasn't sure it was all about the medications, no matter what Sam was saying. He kept quiet but noted the tenseness in his shoulders and the way he gripped the steering wheel on the rest of the drive home. He hoped that Thelma was right, that the rest would truly be all that Sam needed. He had his doubts.

Once the car came to rest, Thelma patted Sam's hand, which had dropped to his thigh. "Come on then. Let's get you settled in. Do you need to take either of those medicines before you lie down?"

"I need to take the first dose of the Zithromax. I guess I should take the Valium too. Maybe it'll knock me out for a while." Sam turned his hand over to grasp his mother's. "You shouldn't be here putting up with me. You should be in Maine enjoying yourself."

Thelma shook her head. "No. There isn't any other place I want to be. You're my son and this time, I can be here for you." She held his hand tightly, as if she didn't want to let him go.

"I know, Mom. I just wish we could actually get a visit in that doesn't require a trip to the emergency room." He squeezed her hand once more then let it go and grimaced slightly and quickly opened the door. "I'll...uh...I'll just meet the two of you inside." As he swung the door shut he asked, "Can you bring in the bag with the prescriptions?"

"Sure, son. We'll be right in." She got out of the car and opened the door for Al. Sam walked into the house and the door closed. She looked at the Admiral with fire in her eyes. "How could you say that? You're his friend."

Al grimaced. "We do this all the time, Thelma. Yes, I'm his friend. It probably wasn't the best of times to say that, but for a moment, Sam was just being Sam. He's seldom been just Sam since he started getting sick this last time."

"I don't care. You shouldn't have baited him like that. You know how raw his nerves have been. That...that...teasing might be fine when he's feeling well but it's not now." Despite the harshness of her words, Thelma still took care when helping Al from the car.

He got out of the car, thanking her. Once he had his crutches again he answered her. "Yeah. I've seen him like this way too many times since I've met him. It scares the hell out of me," he admitted. "But if I've learned anything, it's how to read him. Right now, he needs to regain his balance. He's off kilter."

"I agree he's off balance." Thelma reached in to get Al's bag and then shut the car door behind him. "He needs time to regain that balance on his own, not be forced into it." She held open the door leading into the laundry room for him. "I don't understand why you're pushing at him."

Al stopped when he reached her. "I'm not the one pushing and I'm not the one trying to keep him a child."

"Is that what you think I'm doing? I'll have you know, Admiral, that I know my son quite well. He needs to be given time to find his balance again. He doesn't need you pushing him to do it in your time." She turned abruptly and started toward the kitchen. "I am not trying to keep him a child," she said firmly. "I'm trying to do what's best for him."

"I know that you're only doing what you think is right and that you have his best interests in your heart but as much as you know Sam, the boy you know is more in the past than the present. The man Sam is loves you and his family deeply but he's not the child having to make his way through his life in Elk Ridge, Indiana."

She entered the kitchen and put the small bag from the pharmacy on the island. Al's bag she dropped by the door. "Maybe you should try cutting him some slack instead of pushing him so hard. If you didn't take him off on these hair-brained ideas of yours he'd be doing an awful lot better."

"It's always been Sam's choice to go. If I didn't offer them and get him out of the lab, he'd be in there 24/7. Hell, sometimes I can't even get him to take care of himself. Three hours sleep a night for weeks, missing meals, constantly multitasking..." He looked up at Thelma's face and stopped. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Said what, Admiral?" Thelma asked in a cold voice. "You shouldn't have said that my son's not fit to take care of himself." She laughed humorlessly. "And you accuse me of wanting to keep him a child. It would seem you're doing quite a good job of doing the same thing yourself. Perhaps you should look in a mirror before you accuse others."

Al wasn't given a chance to respond before a soft voice came from behind them. "Stop it. The two of you stop it. Stop fighting over me like a couple of mama bears with a cub. Just - just stop it." Sam didn't say anything more before leaving the kitchen abruptly and going to his bedroom, slamming the door as he went. When he'd walked into the kitchen and heard his mother and Al arguing he'd flashed on a time when he'd walked in on his parents arguing as a child. He felt the same helplessness as he'd felt then except now it was tempered by anger that they were arguing over who was going to control him.

Spotting the stuffed bear from his childhood on one of the chairs in the sitting area he picked it up. He opened one of the sliders and went outside, climbing up to sit on the low wall and stared out at the desert. The stuffed toy he held in his lap.

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Al took a breath and held it for a moment before letting it out. "I'm sorry, Thelma. I don't want to keep Sam a child. I just don't want to lose him to the singular pursuit of his dream. I shouldn't have said anything. You'll excuse me?" He turned and headed to his room. He knew Sam would need his space. This wasn't the time to push it.

"Don't you dare walk away from me, Albert Calavicci," she called firmly after him. She waited until he'd turned to face her before pointing in the direction of Sam's room. "You're just as much responsible for what happened as I am but he's not going to listen to me right now." Her face softened. "You're right, you're his friend and right now, that's what he needs. He needs his friend to listen to him, not his mother to tell him what to do or coddle him. Be angry at me but, please, don't walk away from Sam."

Al looked at her, his head slightly cocked. "Don't you know me yet, Thelma? I'll never walk away from Sam. Never. That's a promise you can bank on." He walked back to her and smiled. "But you were right about not pushing. Sam needs some time to think. How much time varies depending on the situation, but he needs that time. I'll give him that and then you can be sure I'll be there to support him in whatever way he needs."

"Not this time, Al. Please, trust me this time. Go to him now. Don't wait. Don't give him time to get ideas in his head." She reached out and held onto his arm. "Please, trust me."

Al looked at her, a faint smiling gracing his face, and nodded. "I'll go to him. For you. But how I handle things will be based on him and what his needs are."

"I can accept that. Just, please, help him."

Al turned and hobbled to his friend's door. He knocked softly, "Sam?" He waited for a moment and then tried a bit harder. Still not receiving an answer, he turned the knob and found the door open. At least that meant that Sam wasn't shutting himself away, that he was open to an interaction. Walking into the room, he noted that his friend wasn't there. He looked out the sliding door and saw Sam on the wall, thinking like Al figured he'd do. He headed outside. He walked up to Sam and stood a few feet away, not wanting to invade his space. "Sam?" he asked softly.

Sam didn't turn to acknowledge Al's presence, just started to talk. "When I was in the 5th grade Debbie Turner's parents got divorced. I didn't really know what that meant, just that they didn't love each other and weren't married anymore. Mr. Turner moved to Illinois and Debbie didn't see him that much. A couple of weeks later I came home from school and Mom and Dad were arguing. I thought they were going to get a divorce and I ran outta the house and hid in the tree house for a couple of hours. I was so scared that they wouldn't want to be married anymore and I'd have to pick which one I wanted to go with." He looked quickly at Al over his shoulder. "It felt like that when I walked in and you and Mom were arguing. Like I'd have to pick which one of you was right...but how do you choose between two of the people who mean the most to you?"

Al was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but his resolve firm. "I'd never do that to you, Sam. If you want me to back away, I will."

"That's not what I'm saying." Sam spun around on the wall to face his friend. "I don't want to have to pick between the two of you. You're both right and you're both wrong."

Al looked at his friend's eyes and knew this was truly something that was affecting Sam through to his soul. "Tell me then what you need. Where we're right so we can support you. Where we're wrong so we can stop hurting you."

"That's just it, Al, right now I'm so mixed up I don't know what I want or what I need. A part of me wants you both just to back off and let me be to figure things out on my own but another part of me wants to just throw my hands up and let the two of you just take care of everything." As he spoke, the wind picked up ruffling his hair and dark clouds started to gather on the horizon. "I feel like that," he said pointing off to the gathering clouds. "I feel like everything's in turmoil right now and I don't know how to change it." He sighed and looked out across the desert again. "I should have just stayed at the Project and not gone anywhere then nothing would have happened."

"No, you'd just be living on peanut butter sandwiches and junk food, hardly sleeping, and turning pasty white without the benefit of the sun. Then you'd have a coronary because of poor health. You'd never leap." He paused. "You can't be afraid to live, Kid."

"I'm not afraid of living." There was a spark of anger in Sam's words that was quickly quelled. "The doctor's doing lab tests," he said matter of factly. "The Keflex could have affected my kidneys. I didn't want to tell you or Mom so you wouldn't be worrying about that. I don't know why I'm telling you now." He shook his head looking down. "Maybe I do just want you and Mom to take care of me right now."

Al noted that Sam's ire rose a bit and knew as long as that was there, Sam would be on the mend. And yet, his next words frightened him. "Part of your kidney was removed. This could be dangerous, couldn't it?" It was said more as statement but there was enough question there to allow Sam to straighten out the facts."

"Yeah, it could. One of the less frequent side effects is interstitial nephritis." When he saw the look of puzzlement on Al's face he explained, "It's an inflammation of the tubes in the kidneys. My blood pressure was elevated and my temp's up so he ordered the tests."

"How can we help, Sam?"

"There's not much you can about it right now. The tests won't be back until tomorrow at the earliest. He's doing it more as a precaution."

"I mean, is there anything we can do to help you through today." He clarified. "For you, to reduce your stress."

"Don't let me drive," Sam suggested with a half-smile. When Al didn't return his attempt at humor he turned serious. "I don't know, Al. If I did, I wouldn't be feeling this way. Maybe I should just take one of those pills and see if it knocks me out. At least it should leave me not caring about anything for a while. You know what I was like when I took it to fly."

"Yeah...you were a bit like a zombie," Al smiled in memory. "Ok, Kid, let's get you back inside and drugged up. Then you can just sleep the day away."

Sam followed Al back into the bedroom. As he pulled the door closed, the storm broke over the desert. He couldn't help but feel the same thing was happening to him. "Can you get the prescriptions for me?" He wasn't ready to face his mother yet. Even though the child inside of him wanted her to hold him and reassure him, the man wasn't ready yet. "Tell, Mom I'm sorry and maybe...maybe she can come in later."

"Whatever you need, Sam." He walked out the door and started into the kitchen. He noticed Thelma sitting in the living room. "He's going to be fine. I just need to get his meds for him and some water." Al decided a small white lie wouldn't hurt. "He had some chips earlier and the salt's made him thirsty."

Thelma got up. "He always did have a taste for junk food." She walked with Al to the kitchen to get the meds.

Once there, Al got a pitcher and filled it with water. He pulled a glass out as well. "I figure after he takes the valium, he'll be out most of the day. We can leave the water next to him. Make it easier."

Thelma reached to take the pitcher of water. "You're not going to be able to carry this with the crutches. Why don't you let me take it into him?"

Al remembered what Sam had requested. "Well, perhaps we can wait till the valium starts working. Sam wanted a little time before you come in." Seeing her face, he soothed. "He's just not quite ready yet. I guess our discussion sort of bothered him."

"If it's what he needs right now, then ok. I don't want to upset him more."

Al picked up the bag from the pharmacy and started into the room, planning to come back and get the glass. He figured the pitcher could wait a bit. "I don't think it's upset as much as it is gaining that balance we both talked about."

"Whatever it is, I don't want to do anything that's going to distress him anymore. He's had enough of that the last couple of days. The doctor said he needed to get rest when he was released from the hospital but he's gotten precious little of that." Thelma followed Al as far as the living room, hanging back as he went in to her son's bedroom.

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"Here you go, Kid," Al said holding out the bag to Sam. "I just need to go back and get you a glass of water."

"There's one in the bathroom. I'll get it."

When Sam came back from the bathroom with the glass of water in hand, Al smiled broadly pointing at the t-shirt he'd pulled on. "Now I know where that got to."

While Al had been getting the bag of medications Sam had changed into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. The t-shirt was black was large smilie face on it in bright yellow and was a couple of sizes too big for Sam. Al had loaned it to him when his clothing hadn't been salvable after a run-in at the ATM.

Sam self-consciously pulled at the hem of the too-large shirt. "It was comfortable and I didn't think you'd mind if I kept it. It's not really your style."

"No, it's not. I'm glad to see it's getting some use."

Sam pulled the contents out of the bag, a bottle of pills and a small cardboard package of them. "What's that," Al asked curiously indicating the small pack of pills.

"It's the Zithromax," Sam explained. He flipped open the package and read the directions on it. There were five pills in it, each in its own blister. "I have to take the double dose today and then it's just one a day for the next four days." He pushed the larger of the five pills out of the package and set it down next to the glass of water he'd put on the dresser. Next, he picked up the bottle of pills and read the directions on it. When he caught sight of the brightly colored warning sticker on the side, he chuckled slightly and held it up for Al to see. "Do not operate heavy machinery," he read. "I guess they got that right if my driving was any indication today."

"Oh, I don't think you were too bad." Al tried to keep his tone light and teasing. "I'm sure you could have done worse."

"I think I did enough as it is." Sam shook one of the pills out of the bottle and swallowed it with a gulp of water then did the same with the Zithromax. "I guess I should lie down before it kicks in," he said once he'd taken both pills.

"That's probably a good idea, Kid. You fall over and I don't think I can pick you up today." Al waited until Sam stretched out on the bed and pulled the covers over his body. "You need anything else?"

"I don't think so."

"Ok. Just call out if you do." Al turned to leave the room but stopped when Sam called him back. "What do you need, Kid?" he asked turning around.

"You can tell Mom she can come if she wants." A ghost of a smile fleetingly touched his lips. "I guess right now I do need my mom." He lifted his head up off the pillow looking seriously at Al. "That's not a bad thing is it?"

Al looked at his friend, knowing how much his family meant to him and smiled. "Of course not, Sam. She's your mother." Al really didn't know what it would be like, having that close a relationship with a woman who raised you, but in his imagination, it had to be a good thing.

"Ok." Sam dropped his head back down to the pillow. "It doesn't mean I can't take of myself, though."

"I know that, Sam. You don't always do it, but I know you can take care of yourself."

Sam blew out a breath. "Not now, Al, please not now. I might not always do things the way you think I should but that doesn't mean I can't take care of myself."

Al put up his hands. "Sorry. Force of habit. You know I just want you healthy."

"I know, Al." Sam tried to stifle a yawn but wasn't very successful. "You better let Mom know it's ok if she comes in before I zonk out. That stuff starts to work really fast."

Al nodded. "Sure, Sam. I'm just glad you're going to get some rest." He turned and went out the door.

After Al left the room, Sam rolled over so that he could look out the sliding doors. Outside, the storm still raged.

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This time Al went right to the living room, figuring that's where Thelma would be. He was right. "Thelma?" he called to get her attention, "Sam said he'd like to see you."

Thelma looked up from the couch. "Thank you, Al." She reached up to finger the chain that held the locket that Sam had given her several years ago. Her wedding picture was on one side, a picture of the children on the other. "I'm glad he asked for me."

Al nodded, smiling. "I don't think you had anything to worry about on that front."

Thelma hurried back to Sam's room. She knocked softly on the door first. "Sam?"

Sam heard the knocking on the door and his mother's voice. He couldn't muster the energy to call out for her to come in and hoped she just would.

Not getting an answer, Thelma hesitated but then decided that since Sam had asked for her, it would be all right to just enter. She walked over to the bed and saw Sam, his eyes heavy. She reached out and brushed the hair from his eyes, thinking how much he still looked her little boy. "Honey, I'm here for you."

Sam barely nodded to acknowledge his mother. He didn't roll over to face her but kept staring out at the storm. "Just sit with me for a while," he softly asked.

Thelma returned her answer with the same softness. She took her seat on the bed and continued to brush at his hair with her hand. Noticing him looking out at the storm, she shook her head. "The storms are different out here in the west than they were back in Indiana. The ones there built up over time and rolled across the land. The ones here are quick and fearsome, but they clear quickly. I don't think I've ever seen skies like the ones around here after a storm. They're beautiful."

"Mmmm hmmm...pretty." Sam found it harder and harder to keep his eyes open. As the storm started to wind down, Sam turned over so he could see his mother. "Love you, Mama," he breathed out as his eyes slipped closed.

Thelma bent down and kissed his forehead. "I love you too, Sammy." She watched as his chest rose and fell in easy rhythm and smiled. "Rest well, Little One, rest well." She stayed like that for about fifteen minutes, just watching him sleep. Then she got up and headed out the door. She kept the door cracked enough that either she or Al would hear if Sam awoke.

She found Al, his leg up on the sofa watching a football game on TV. "He's asleep."

Al looked up at her. "I'm glad. He needs the rest, that's for sure. Not just from this, though."

Thelma sank down to sit on the edge of the armchair. "I wish I could take him away from all of this...whatever this is. Just take him some place where he can relax and be happy. That's all I've ever wanted for him."

Al knew he couldn't say much, but he felt he had to say something. "Sam is doing what he's always wanted to do. This project, well, it's everything to him. I think if anyone tried to keep him from fulfilling his dream, he'd be devastated and completely unhappy." He paused. "I really think he's happiest when he's wrapped up in it, doing the work. My only concern is he'll push himself too far."

Thelma didn't seem to hear what Al said caught up in her own emotions. "I've lost my husband and I've lost my oldest son. Sometimes I look at Sam and I'm so afraid that I'm going to lose him too." Thelma covered her face with her hands and tears started to fall from her eyes. "I can't lose him too."

Al wanted to go over to her, but his leg prevented that. Instead, he reached out with his voice, showing his compassion with the tone and words. "I can understand how you feel, Thelma. Sam is my family now. I want him safe, healthy, and happy as well. What I said before was the truth. I'll stand beside Sam through thick and thin."

Thelma dropped her hands from her face. She got up and walked over to the sliding doors in the living room. "He was just seventeen, Al. He was seventeen and I had to let him go to go off to college. He wasn't more than a boy then and he'd been hurt so badly. I wanted to keep him at home at least another year but John convinced me it would be best for him." She looked over her shoulder at the man still sitting on the couch. "How was it best for him to be separated from the people who loved him? Oh, he threw himself into his schoolwork and he seemed to adjust but I knew. A mother knows these things. He hid in his schoolwork. That's not the same thing as moving on and accepting what happened."

Al nodded. "I know. Sam still hides in his work sometimes. That's why I make sure to get him out of the lab when I can. I know you're not thrilled with the results of our trips, but seriously, everything that's happened has just happened. There's no connection."

"I just want what's best for him." Thelma walked away from the sliding glass door and went over to the door leading to Sam's bedroom. "He may not want me to hover over him when he's awake but I can sit with him while he's sleeping."

Al nodded. "I understand." He watched as she entered Sam's room, knowing exactly how she felt.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Thelma had been in Sam's room for about thirty minutes when the phone rang. Al was able to pick it up during the first ring. He hoped it hadn't disturbed Sam's sleep. "Hello?"

"Is this the home of Dr. Samuel Beckett, winner of the Nobel Prize in Physics?" came a voice from the other end.

Yes, but Dr. Beckett is indisposed."

"Ah. Yes. Well, this is Dr. Harold Markesson from Cal Tech. Dr. Beckett and I met at a conference about five years ago. I wanted to congratulate him on being on the cover of _Time_.

Al grabbed the pad of paper that Sam kept near the phone. "Yes Dr. Markesson. I think I remember you. I was with Sam at that conference." He asked for and took down the information from the other scientist. "I'll make sure Sam gets the message and thank you for calling."

As Al put down the receiver, another call came in. _This is nuts_ thought Al. He again took the name, number, and message from the caller. After the third such call in less than thirty minutes, Al decided just to unplug the phone instead of risking the calls waking up the sleeping man. He went back to watching the game.

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The familiar aroma of his mother's cooking reached Sam in his sleep and drew him from it. He lay quietly in his bed for a while. The comforting aromas meant home to him and just for a few moments he pretended that he was a kid again and when he got out of bed his parents, brother, and sister would be outside his bedroom waiting for him.

Like all good fantasies, it didn't last long but it was still comforting to indulge for a while. It was the grumbling in his stomach that finally drove him to get up. He pulled a sweatshirt jacket from his closet and pulled it on over the t-shirt then went out to face his mother and Al. He may have made amends with Al for what had happened earlier and his mother may have sat with him until he went to sleep but he knew there was still more there to patch up.

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Thelma had come out of Sam's room an hour after the phone calls had abruptly ended. Al had asked if everything was ok and she said that she needed to get dinner started. Offering to help, Thelma had turned him down, telling him to continue watching the game. When that had ended, Al had retrieved his _Three Musketeers_ book and read. Now, hearing movement from Sam's room, he looked up to see him coming out. "He lives!" Al said, gently ribbing his friend.

"Ha ha. Sorry you won't be collecting my insurance policy." Sam returned his friend's teasing hoping that by doing so things could become more normal.

"Darn!" Al quipped back. "There goes the Porsche I was going to buy with the windfall."

Sam smiled slightly at Al's return ribbing. "That stuff is definitely stronger than what I was taking to fly," he said as he sat in the armchair. "How long was I out anyway?" His stomach rumbled again. "I feel like I haven't eaten in at least a day."

Al turned serious, as Sam moved further into the room and sat. "Well, you didn't eat much earlier. You've been out for about four hours."

"That long." Sam wiped his hands over his face trying to erase the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. "I had some strange dreams. I kept dreaming that there were bells ringing."

"Probably the phone. It rang quite a bit at first. I finally unplugged it." Al nodded over to the answering machine. "That's full as well. Probably happened when we were out at the hospital earlier."

"I guess I should listen to it this time." Sam moved from the armchair to the sofa that was perpendicular to where Al sat and looked at the phone on the table between the two. "You know, I'm not sure Bell really did us such a favor when he invented this thing." Reluctantly he pushed the button to play the messages and waited while the tape rewound to the beginning. He couldn't help the groan that came out when the first message started to play.

"Hey, Sammy, Buddy! It's your old pal Larry Baker. Me and Marcie are gonna be out your way just after the New Year. I saw you on _Time_ and I knew I just had to look up my old buddy. We'll be getting in to Albuquerque on Thursday. I'll call you with the exact time so you know when to pick us up at the airport." The man's voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Look Sammy, don't mention Jake to Marcie. She doesn't know about him and I'd like to keep it that way." His voice once again got boisterous. "Lookin' forward to seeing you, buddy. We got a lot to catch up on and it's gonna be a hoot working together."

Sam's first instinct was to delete the message as soon as he heard the name but listening to it was like a traffic accident. As much as he wanted just to end it, he couldn't make himself push the button. When the message finally ended, he pushed the button to stop any other messages from playing.

Al listened to the guy talking and recalled what Sam had said the night before. "So are you going to pick him up? Maybe the guy has changed. Who's Jake?

Sam gaped at Al convinced that the concussion he's suffered on the ski slope must have done more damage than anyone thought. "Am I gonna pick him up? Are you nuts? I'm gonna move to another state is what I'm gonna do. Did I really just hear that or is it still the Valium?"

"Hear what, Sam? People can change, you know. He's with Marcie now...but who's Jake?"

"Change," Sam snorted. "Yeah, right, Larry Baker's going to change. You did hear how he assumed I'd be at the airport and assumed we'd be working together - like that's gonna happen. Nuh uh, this guy's a million miles of bad news." He resolutely reached to erase the message from his machine. As he did, he answered Al's question about Jake. "Jake would be the pool boy he was discovering himself with. I guess he discovered what he wasn't." Satisfied that the message from Larry was deleted, Sam sat back on the sofa. "I can't imagine where he met Marcie. Actually, I can. I just don't want to."

Ok, Sam. You know best." Al nodded over to the wall. "You want me to plug the phone back in?"

"Nah, leave it for now." Sam looked at the still blinking light on the answering machine and pushed it again. "You gotta be kidding me," he exclaimed when he heard the now familiar voice come through the phone.

"Hey Sammy, I almost forgot to tell you. Since Marcie and I are gonna be staying at your place there's some things you should probably pick up that Marcie likes." This time Sam didn't let the message play through before deleting it. He ended up doing the same thing to the next three messages on the phone as they were all from Larry. When he was done deleting those, the only message left was a telemarketer calling about having his windows replaced.

"I don't believe it," Sam said once the machine was emptied of messages. "I really am going to have to move. Changing my phone number's not going to be enough. He's just gonna find me anyway."

Not necessarily, Sam. You can always move in with me for a few weeks, change the number, and put the house in the name of a trust. There are things that can be done if you really want to disappear.

"You're a great help. You know," Sam said, a gleam in his eye, "Maybe I can find a job at the project for him. Yeah. I know exactly what he'd be perfect for."

Al looked at Sam, his head tilted with suspicion. "What are you thinking of, Sam?"

"Oh, nothing," Sam said lightly. "I was just thinking that he'd be perfect in the position of Special Liaison to Senator Weitzman. The two of them are made for each other. Fifteen minutes alone in a room with Baker and Weitzman will be giving us whatever we want just to get away from him." He looked at Al, a wide, mischievous grin on his face. "It's a win-win situation all around."

"Are you serious, Kid?"

"Sure? Why wouldn't I be?" Sam was only able to keep the serious look on his face for a few seconds before he finally broke down and started to laugh. "Seriously," he said once he stopped laughing. "What am I gonna do about this nutjob? I'm not going to go to the airport Thursday, he's not going to stay here with me, and I'm not going to give him a job." As an afterthought he added, "I'd really rather not have to move in with you although I do appreciate the offer."

Al got to thinking. "What if I could get him a job in Alaska?"

"Make it Siberia and I'll buy you a box of those cigars you're so fond of."

Al thought about that one. "I'm not sure we're close enough to the Russians to get that one through. I might be able to swing Manitoba."

"As tempting as that is, you better not. You're my best friend," Sam explained. "I don't want this guy to even know you exist. I'll just call him tomorrow or something and set him straight and if he doesn't want to listen to reason," he said with an evil grin, "I'll just tell him when I pick them up at the airport I'll tell Marcie all about Jake."

"Sam, he doesn't need to know about me. I have connections with connections with connections." Al grinned, "Besides, a box of cigars is worth it. Now what type of work does he do?"

"In all honesty, I couldn't tell you." Sam picked up the notepad by the phone and paged through the messages on it finding the one Al had taken from Larry the day before. "I'll just call him tomorrow and make him understand. It worked four years ago. He never did show up then, did he?" If that doesn't work, then you can do your best with him and I'll get you the box of cigars."

"Sounds good, Sam. One way or the other, we'll get him off your back."

"Get who off your back?" Thelma asked coming in from the kitchen. She went over to where Sam was sitting and brushed her hand against his cheek. "You're looking better."

"I'm feeling better," Sam replied as he briefly turned his face into his mother's hand. "As for the who, Larry Baker called a couple of times. He's flying out here next week and thinks I'm gonna give him a job. Al's just trying to figure out a way to ship him off to Siberia…or someplace equally as forbidding, if he can't take no for an answer."

"I can do it too," Al stated firmly.

"Do you think that would really be necessary," Thelma asked in concern. "Why would he still come if you just called him and told no? He must understand that no means no."

"You just don't know this guy, Mom," Sam said. He breathed in and then asked, "What smells so good," he asked to deflect any more questions about Larry Baker.

Thelma smiled. "You said you had to eat the BRAT diet."

"Uh huh but that's not what that smells like."

"Sure it is, at least for you. I made homemade applesauce and fresh bread."

"Fresh bread!? I thought that's what I was smelling. I can't remember the last time I had any."

"Well, you always enjoyed it at home. It's so much better than store bought." She smiled. "As for Al and me, there's chicken, green beans, and white rice. I figured you can have some of the rice as well."

"I'd rather the chicken but that's probably not a good idea right now. My stomach actually doesn't feel too bad right now. I probably shouldn't tempt fate." Sam's stomach grumbled again as if to prove the point that he actually was hungry and feeling a little better.

She frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have any bananas though."

"That's ok, Mom." Sam got up and started to guide his mother back to the kitchen and the enticing aromas. "I don't have to eat them all at once."

Well, three out of four isn't bad," she reasoned.

"It's perfect." Sam looked back to where Al was still sitting on the couch. "You coming or do I have to wait on you and bring your dinner into you?" he asked teasingly. For the first time in too many days, he was finally feeling at ease. Whether it was because the Keflex was starting to leave his system or because the Valium had calmed the agitation it was causing he wasn't sure. He was just grateful that he didn't feel like jumping out of his own skin.

Al got up. "No, I'm coming. You think I'd miss one of your mother's meals?"

As Al went around the sofa, the crutch caught on it and he stumbled. Sam quickly put out a hand to steady his friend before he could fall. "Take it easy, Speedy. It's not gonna go anywhere. I might be feeling better but I still don't want to have to pick your butt up off my floor. Besides," he added with a smirk, "you put yourself out of commission and who's going to solve my Larry Baker problem?"

"Yeah," Al teased by. "You would have an angle like that."

"You're the one who offered." Sam hung back walking behind Al to make sure he got to the kitchen without any more problems. When they walked in, Thelma was just putting chicken down on the table. "That looks great, Mom."

Yeah, Thelma. It looks great, it smells great, and I'm sure it will taste even better."

While Al went to sit at the table, Sam went over to the refrigerator and pulled it open. "What do you want to drink?" he asked the other two.

"A glass of milk," answered Thelma.

"You have some tea in there?" questioned Al.

"No tea. You've got a choice of milk, apple juice, ginger ale, Diet Coke, or water."

"Milk then," Al decided. He saw Sam's expression. "When in Rome..."

Sam shrugged and grabbed the carton of milk and bottle of juice and brought them over to the table. As he put the bottle of juice down, he happened to notice the brand name on it - Mott's. "Motts," he said under his breath. Rob Motts." He turned to Al, excitement on his face. "Rob Motts! Isn't he that guy in LA that's been doing that work on artificial intelligence - that cutting edge stuff?"

Al caught Sam's excitement but wasn't sure what was causing it. "Yeah," he answered slowly. "You mentioned him before we left for the ski trip. Why are you asking?"

"We need to get him." Momentarily forgetting his mother was present, Sam's enthusiasm started to bubble out. "We need a computer that doesn't just rely on a human inputting data. We need one that can take that data and extrapolate on it. Motts it the guy we need for that."

Al smiled. "I get you, Sam, but perhaps your mother would prefer we not talk shop."

Sam heard Al's words but in his excitement, he didn't pay them much heed. "The design I have isn't enough. It needs to be able to do more than just crunch numbers. It needs to be able to learn from the data being input and not rely on more data input. Otherwise, it's just going to spit back out whatever we put in. We need it to do more than just tell us what history is if this is ever gonna work."

"Saaammm," Al stated gently.

Thelma looked up from serving the food. "Is there a problem, Admiral?"

Sam snapped his mouth closed as soon as his mother spoke. Her voice brought him back to the here and now and he realized he'd come dangerously close to saying too much. "Oh boy."

Al closed his eyes for a moment, knowing that Sam had finally caught on. "No, Thelma. Everything's all right. Sam's just gone over this with me before. I didn't think it would be good to bore you."

"I've always found Sam's ideas interesting. You know, when he was a little boy, he used to watch this space show on TV. Captain Universe or Nebulae or something. He loved that show."

"Galaxy, Mom. It was Captain Galaxy." Sam scooped a healthy portion of the rice onto his plate. "I wonder whatever happened to that. One day it was on and then it was never on again."

Al shrugged, as he took his plate from Thelma. "Who knows. Shows come and go." He smiled though, thinking of Sam as a young child watching TV. "What was it about, Kid?"

"Time travel. It was about time travel. I loved the idea of being able to go ahead and see the future." Sam's face turned thoughtful as he accepted the bowl of applesauce Thelma handed him. "Sometimes it did scare me. Things looked scary in the future but the idea of getting there - I guess that was more important than the scary stuff."

"Ah, so that's where it began," said Al sagely.

"That's where what began?" Thelma asked curiously. She sliced the fresh bread and took the slices over to the toaster.

"Oh, nothing, Mom. I've just told Al about how I'd like to travel through time a few times, that's all."

Al nodded and didn't go into any detail. "Yeah." He changed the subject. "So, Thelma, how was Maine? I haven't been there since a vacation with my third...no wait...it was my fourth wife."

"It was very cold and very snowy. I thought it was cold in Indiana but not compared to what Maine was like. Jim's family lives pretty far north in the state. I don't think we were very far from Canada." While the bread was toasting, Thelma came back over to the table. "It'll be ready in a few minutes, Honey."

"Hmmm. I don't think that sounds like the time to go. We were there in September. Had the best lobster I ever ate there."

"Well, I guess we can't move Christmas." Thelma took the bowl of green beans that Al passed to her and put some in her plate. "I'm hoping that next year Katie and Jim stay home for Christmas. Of course, that's going to depend on where Jim is. He could end up getting deployed overseas and taking Katie and Sarah with him."

Al got a far away look in his eyes. "Yeah. I always thought that was a good reason not to have children. Now I wish I had reconsidered."

"Well, Jim just got back from a six month deployment so hopefully he'll be able to stay put for a while. It was a close thing. Katie wasn't sure he'd get back before Sarah made her arrival."

Sam got up to get the toast when it popped. "Did Katie ever find out why it ended up being six months? I thought it originally was supposed to be three months."

"I don't think Jim ever did tell her. I'm not sure if he was able."

Al nodded. "Unfortunately, that's the reality of the military and other classified projects. Sometimes families are left without knowledge of what is going on. They just have to trust that things are all right."

"I suppose Katie has no other choice right now." Thelma reached over to pat Sam on the hand. "I'm glad even if you don't call that often that I still hear from you."

Sam squirmed slightly realizing he didn't call his mother as often as he could. "I'll try to make sure I call more often, Mom. Sometimes things just get away from me."

Al spoke up. "I doubt if it will happen, but it's possible that Sam wouldn't be able to call at some point in the future." Al looked at both of the Beckett's faces. "I'm just saying. It's unlikely that will ever happen."

"Don't worry, Mom," Sam reassured. "Nothing's going to happen. You just have to trust that."

"I try, Sam, I do. Sometimes it's just hard."

Even though he didn't want to bring up any bad feelings from earlier, Sam saw it as the perfect time to broach what had been happening that day and what had brought his mother and best friend to argue with each other. "I know it's hard, Mom, but it's something you've just got to do." He looked over to Al. "It's something you both have to do." He put some of the rice in his mouth. After swallowing it, he asked nonchalantly, "What were the two of you arguing about earlier."

"We just have a slightly different take on how to support you, Kid," Al said after a short pause to decide how to say it.

"Is that all." It was said facetiously. Sam put his fork down and looked between the two making sure they both understood his next words were serious. "Has it ever occurred to either of you that I don't give damn what your ideas are? You both might think you know what's best for me but have either of you ever thought that maybe, just maybe you should ask me? After all, it is my life."

His mother looked over at him with a loving look on her face. "Sam, we're not trying to make decisions for you. We're both just worried about you is all. Surely you understand that."

Al nodded. "Your mother's right, Sam. You've got to admit; there have been reasons to be concerned." He thought back over the years since he'd first met Sam and the number of times he'd been on the sidelines, watching over the younger man, determined to make sure the kid made it through.

"No," Sam said firmly. "There are no reasons what so ever for either of you to be doing what you're doing. Things have happened, I'll give you that, but the two of you are starting to act like something's wrong all the time. That's got to stop. I'm 37 years old but between the two of you sometimes I feel like I'm lucky if I'm seven."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." Al stated, using his fork and knife to give him something to do on his plate, wanting his focus anywhere but on his friend.

"I never meant to make you feel that way, Sam." Thelma also turned her attention to her plate.

Sam looked between the two. His first instinct was to reassure them and apologize for what he'd said. Before he could say anything, he realized they were both doing exactly what he'd said. "Stop it; the two of you just stop it. You're doing it again right now." He looked between them as they both looked at him in surprise. "Neither of you have anything to say about what I said but you're both doing a fine job of making me feel like the guilty party."

Al looked up at Sam. "What do you want us to do, Sam? Do you want us to turn off the fact that we care about you? I'm sure that would be impossible for your mother. I'm positive it would be impossible for me."

Sam struggled to keep his voice as level as possible and not give into the pull of emotion. The only way he'd get through to them was by being reasonable. "I'm not saying that. Aren't you listening to me? I'm not telling you not to care; I'm just saying you need to stop going overboard. If I hadn't gone to the hospital this morning, are you both going to sit there and tell me you wouldn't have badgered me about it all day? Do you want me to believe that you wouldn't have tried to take me there bodily? You need to stop making those decisions for me and then complaining when I don't want to do it your way," he looked to his mother to include her as well, "either of your ways and choose to do things my way instead. When do you start respecting the decisions I make for myself?"

"Ok," said Al, putting down the eating utensils in his hand. "Let's just go over some of these decisions that we're supposed to go along with. Sleep for instance. I realize that you're an ubergenius and probably don't need near as much sleep as the rest of us, but come on, Sam. Three hours a night for weeks at a time? I'm just supposed to let you keep that up until your body fights back? Maybe hurting you worse than what's happened in the past? Is that what you want?"

Sam slapped his hand down on the table in frustration. "Yes! It's my body, my decision." He could see Al ready to further the argument and decided to turn it around on him. "How about you? Do you think smoking cigars is exactly healthy for you? How would you like it if every time you lit one up I told you that you shouldn't? How would you like it if I reminded you about lung cancer and heart disease every time? How would feel about that?"

"I don't smoke that many cigars, Sam. As I recall, during our recent stay at the cabin and then the hospital, I hardly had one at all and I didn't complain. And don't act like you never try that on me. You do. I've heard the lecture enough times I can probably say it by rote." Pausing for a moment, Al went on. "I understand why you're doing it, Kid. You care. That's why you keep coming back to it. I get it. I may not agree with you, but I get it."

"Not every time, Al," Sam denied in rising frustration and anger. "Every time I decide to do something that you don't quite approve of, I get lectured. I didn't get this many lectures from my father when I was a teenager."

In contrast to Sam's rising frustration, Al attempted to keep his voice level. "Au contraire, Sam. There are a lot of times you do something that I keep my mouth shut."

"Really? Let's see just how true that is," Sam said with deceptive mildness. He picked up his plate and cup and brought them over to the sink putting them down on the counter there.

"What are you doing, Sam," Thelma asked. Up until now, she'd sat as a silent witness to the discussion between her son and his friend.

"I decided I want something else for dinner." He pulled a bag of potato chips out of the pantry, got another glass from the cupboard, and then went to the cabinet below the sink pulling out a bottle from there. He brought the three things back to the table and sat down. He unscrewed the top off the bottle of Scotch and poured a healthy amount into the cup. He looked at his mother and friend in challenge. "Either of you have anything you want to say?"

Al's eyes narrowed. He got up and followed the same set of actions that Sam had, putting his plate and glass down and getting a glass. Walking back over, he put the glass in front of Sam. "Fine. Pour me one too."

Without taking his eyes off his friend, Sam uncapped the bottle again and poured the same amount into the glass Al had put in front of him.

Thelma couldn't stay silent any longer. "What are the two of you doing?" She pulled both of the glasses of Scotch away from the two men. "I don't care if you think I'm a meddling old woman or not, Sam, but you should know you can't mix alcohol with the medication you're taking." She shifted her gaze to Al, her looking clearly communicating she wouldn't take any nonsense from him either. "I don't know what you're trying to prove either, Admiral. Right now the two of you are acting like children - spoiled children who are bound and determined to get your own way or you're going to have a temper tantrum."

Al waited a beat before finally stating, "No, Thelma. That's not what that was about at all. Sam knows what drinking cost me and he saved me from it once. We'll never know now, but I expect he wouldn't have let me drink that scotch and I doubt he would have drunk his." He pushed himself away from the table. "I'm truly sorry about your meal. I'm sure it was as delicious as it smelled. My appetite has left though, so you'll excuse me?" He turned and left the kitchen.

"Don't you leave," Sam shouted jumping up from the table. He shook off Thelma's restraining hand and rushed after Al catching up with before he went through the doorway. He grabbed him by the shoulder to stop him from going any further. "Don't you dare leave. You promised. You said you'd never leave. Was that just a lie - just to placate the Nutty Professor? If that's all that was about then you can just keep on walking." He dropped his hand to his side stood behind his friend who hadn't turned around. Red-faced, he didn't say anything more.

Al slowly turned to face Sam. "I'm not leaving, Sam. I wouldn't lie about something like that. Trust me. I've had enough people leave me in my life that I'd never do that to another soul, especially my best friend. But I can't sit her and watch you tear apart your life just to make a point." His eyes sought understanding.

"Sometimes I feel like you don't listen to me unless and until I make a point." Sam rubbed his hands over his face. He squeezed his eyes shut counting to himself to rein in his temper before it got the better of him. "This isn't going well. We need to figure this out," he looked to his mother to include her. "We all need to figure this out. Every time something happens or goes wrong, we can't keep going through this. I can't keep feeling like the two of you don't trust me to make the best decision for myself."

Al pressed his lips together. "At the moment, Sam, I'm not sure I can help figure this out. There are times when something has to be pushed because there won't be time for it in the future and something has to be done that minute. This isn't one of those times. You've opened up the issue. I need time to consider and the time is there to do it. May I go to my room and do so?"

Head down, Sam nodded. "Yeah," he said softly. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched as Al hobbled down the hall to the office that he was using as a bedroom. He didn't hear Thelma come up behind him.

"He just needs some time, Honey," she said rubbing his back gently. "It's going to be ok." She tugged gently on his arm trying to bring him back to the table. "C'mon and finish your dinner."

Sam shook his head slightly. "Not right now, Mom. I'm not hungry anymore."

Thelma was going to push him more, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since breakfast beside the few a bites of his dinner. Even at breakfast he hadn't eaten much. She bit back what she was going to say realizing this wasn't a good time to push at him. "Ok, Sweetie. Maybe later."

"Yeah, Mom. Later." He looked at the table still set from dinner. "I'm sorry, Mom. I know you worked hard cooking that." He drew a deep breath and let it out. "I'm going to go for a walk outside. I'll clean it up when I get back in. You just sit down and rest."

Sam didn't wait for a response from his mother. He went to the foyer, got his coat from the closet, and went out the door. Like Al, he needed time to think as well. Sometimes that was something he did better outside. He knew he'd handled things badly and unless he found a better way, the same thing would happen when they tried to talk about it again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Al entered the office he was using as a bedroom and closed the door. He wanted to pace but his leg made that impossible. Instead, he threw himself down on the sofabed, which he figured could stay open until he left.

He thought back over the past few days, the past few weeks, the past year. He tried to see it from Sam's point of view. He knew what it was like to lose his own independence. It had happened to him in Nam, at least physically. Mentally, they'd never broken him. After Nam, was different. He had to admit, then he wasn't sure he wouldn't lose his mind when he'd returned to find Beth gone and had to endure being treated like a baby until his strength returned. He knew what little he'd told Sam about that part of his life. He knew he didn't want to go there again. It brought back way too many memories that he'd just as soon forget.

Al didn't know what to do about now, though. He knew on one hand, Sam was right. Sometimes he could be overprotective. He'd learned that as a big brother with Trudy. Sam was as different from Trudy as day was from night but like two sides of the same coin, Al also saw similarities.

It was a dilemma, no doubt about it. He was Sam's partner. He was Sam's friend. He felt an obligation to the man who'd seen something in him when he'd seen nothing of value anymore. As he continued to go down these pathways, he heard a soft knock on the door.

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A little less than an hour after he'd left the house, Sam came back. He was no closer to seeing a solution than he was when he'd left for his walk but he knew he needed to find some kind of resolution with Al and he had to do it now. The longer they put it off, the worse it was going to be.

Hanging his coat up in the closet, he acknowledged his mother who'd come to the living room door when he walked in then went down the hall to Al's room. He knocked softly. "Al, can I come in?" There was some trepidation in his voice. He wasn't sure if the man would welcome him right now.

Al licked his lips. He still wasn't sure what to do. Hearing the uncertainty in Sam's voice decided his course of action, though. "Yeah. Come in, Sam."

Sam came in far enough to shut the door then stood uncertainly in front of it. "Can we talk? I think we really need to and I don't think we should put it off."

Al nodded and gestured to the chair. "Sure, Kid."

Perching on the edge of the desk chair, Sam started to talk. "We can't keep doing this, Al." He licked his lips and tried to gather his thoughts then started again. "I don't know what we need to do but we need to do something."

"I know. I just don't know what." Al looked away. "You're all I have, Sam. I feel you're family now. That means a lot to me."

"I know that and I feel the same way. It's just that…" Sam got up from the chair and started to walk around the room, "…I feel like every time you tell me what to do it's because you don't trust me to figure out what's best myself and if you don't trust me there...well...maybe it just means that you don't trust me at all."

Al looked up taken off guard by Sam's words. It was one of the last things he thought the kid would say. He understood he felt his independence was being taken from him but he'd never thought Sam was interpreting it as Al not trusting him. He had to set that straight with him right away. "Oh, Lord, Sam, I trust you. I trust you more than anyone I've ever met. We wouldn't be best friends if that wasn't true."

"But sometimes it doesn't feel that way." Sam stopped his restless wandering and faced his friend. "Last night when I asked you to erase the phone messages and you wouldn't, I felt like you thought I was too dumb or something to know what to do. It felt like you didn't trust me to make that decision on my own. It's those little things, Al, they've got to stop."

"That's not why I said that, Sam. I don't think you're dumb and I don't know why you'd think that. I felt like maybe you were too worked up and that maybe in the light of a new day, you might see something different."

"See, that's what I mean," Sam said pointing at his friend then letting his arms drop to his sides. "What you thought about it somehow carried more weight than what I thought or what I asked. I feel like you just totally disregarded me and how I felt. Damn it, it's my phone. I should be able to choose if I want those messages or not and if I regret it the next day, that's my problem. It's not your problem."

"You're right Sam."

Sam looked at Al, brow furrowed in confusion. "If I'm right, why did you fight me on it? What did it gain? I know I haven't been the easiest person to live with the last couple of days and I know that a lot of that was the side effects from the Keflex. That wasn't all of it, though. It just started to feel like no matter what I said, what I wanted, you or Mom were there telling me I was wrong. If I said left, you said right. If said stop, Mom said go. I just felt like "dumb ol' Sam" that had to be taken care of." His shoulders slumped as his posture spoke to how he was feeling.

"Sam, as to your mother, I can't speak to that other than to say she's your mother. Me? Well...I'm not sure I can really explain other than to say, I see your side of it now. At the time...I guess I just did what I thought was what was needed."

"You're saying that now," Sam sat down in the chair again, "what about the next time? Can you honestly sit there and tell me the next time I get so caught up in work that I forget to eat you won't keep on me about it. Or, if I asked you to delete the phone messages right now that you'd wouldn't argue with me - you wouldn't tell me I'm wrong?" He got up again and this time joined his friend sitting down on the open sofa bed. "Al, I value our friendship and I value your advice but you need to let me make my own choices even if they are the wrong ones."

"I'm not sure I can do that all the time, Sam," Al said, his heart obviously hurt that he was hurting his friend.

"I'm not asking you to do it all the time. If I were, then I'd never want your advice. It's just that you gotta loosen the apron strings. I need to sink or swim on my own and I need to know that whichever the outcome, you'll still be here. I need to know I'll still have my friend." His posture spoke of the fear that that couldn't be.

Al rubbed Sam's back wanting nothing more than to make sure his friend understood there was nothing that was ever going to force him away. "Sam, you're stuck with me. We're friends and nothing will ever change that." He took a deep breath. "I'll try not to push on you so much, Sam. You might have to remind me again, though."

"I guess I can live with that." Sam leaned over and pulled Al into a quick hug. "Besides," he said with a light laugh, "who's gonna send Larry to Siberia for me otherwise?"

Al grinned and patted Sam on the back. "Yeah," he said, deciding to leave the Siberia in place. "Got to take care of Larry the Leech."

"Yeah, Larry the Leech." There was still a small part of Sam that was still unsure of where they stood, a part that needed his friend's reassurance. "So, are we good now?" he asked serious once more.

Al looked at Sam as they broke. "We always were good, Kid." He knew that wasn't all Sam needed to hear. "I'm sorry, Sam. I'm really sorry for how my...um...overprotective nature sometimes comes out."

"I know Al and sometimes, I really don't mind." He looked away from his friend as he shyly admitted, "I meant it when I said I felt safer when you read to me."

"That was a pleasure, Kid. I'm glad it helped."

"Well, thanks again." Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It seemed, at least for now, he and Al had come to some kind of peace. "I guess I should probably try to smooth things over with Mom now." He got up from the sofa but had to reach quickly out to it for support as he swayed in place. "Oh wow," he murmured squeezing his eyes shut.

"What's the matter, Kid?" Al asked concerned.

"Nothing. I just felt a little light-headed is all." Sam let go of the sofa and straightened up. "It's passing." He saw the concern on his friends face. "Really, I'm ok now."

"Sam...um..." Al really wanted to say something about the lack of food Sam had eaten. With the meds, it was probably even worse. Still, with the conversation they'd just had, Al was trying hard not to say anything.

"You can say it. I bet I know what you're going to say. I haven't eaten enough today." Sam smiled to let his friend know it was ok. "You're right. I haven't eaten enough today. Even worse, more has left my body than I put in."

"Ok, Kid. Then let's get you to the kitchen. I'm sure your mom has put the food away but the wonders of microwaves can make it palatable again."

Halfway to the kitchen, they met Thelma in the hall. "I'm glad to see the two of you have patched things up. Do you think we can try to have dinner again?"

Al looked a little sheepish. "Yes ma'am."

"You're looking a little paler than you were, Sam. Is something wrong?" Thelma asked in concern as she noticed how her son looked.

"I'm just a little hungry, that's all, Mom. I'll be fine as soon as I eat something."

She took him by the arm and led him to the kitchen. "Well, let's go take care of that."

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Thelma had reheated dinner and the three finally sat to eat. They'd all been careful to keep the conversation as light as possible. When they were done eating, Sam sent his mother off telling her that he'd take care of cleaning up the kitchen. She indicated she was a bit tired and was going to her room to read. Al offered to stay and keep Sam company, but the younger man sent his friend off to the living room, saying he'd get finished quicker if he was alone..

Once the kitchen was cleaned from dinner, Sam went to the guestroom where Thelma was. The door was partially ajar and through the crack he could see her sitting on the bed reading. He softly knocked on the door and pushed it open a little more so he could poke his head in. "You mind if I come in for a little while, Mom?"

Thelma put down her book. "Sure, honey." She patted the bed beside her inviting Sam to sit down.

Sam came into the room, closing the door behind him. He sat on the edge of the bed facing his mother. "I think we need to talk about what happened earlier, Mom." He hoped this talk would go as well as the one he'd had with Al but without the heartache.

Thelma attempted to let Sam know everything was all right. "I understand, Sam. You felt I was being too much 'Mom' and not respecting your feelings."

Sam nodded glad to hear that his mother wasn't going on the defensive. "That's part of it – but not all of it. There's more than just that. I heard some of what you and Al were arguing about too."

"Oh." The sharp memory of the confrontation she and Al had engaged in came back full force. She'd been in hopes that Sam's reaction had more to do with his problems with the medications than anything else. "I'm sorry about that, Sam. I know that Al's your friend."

"He is and you're my mother. I don't want to be put in a position of having to choose between the two of you." Sam paused trying to pull his thoughts together and voice them as gently as he could. "Mom, right now Al's the one who's with me the most. Now I know you both have some strong ideas about me - and I'm not saying I agree with either of you - but, maybe Al does know a little bit better what works best for me right now." He took his mother's hands holding onto them tightly. "I love you, Mom, and I'm always going to. Nothing can change that. I'm not a little boy any more. You've got to let that go."

Thelma looked into his eyes, seeing a great deal but mostly seeing his need for her to understand. She understood that only too well. She'd seen a similar look in her older son's eyes when he had explained why he wanted to join the military during a war, which had goals not nearly as cut and dried as the one her husband had served in. She had given that only to learn a few years later that she'd never look into Tom's eyes again. "It's difficult, Sam."

"I know, Mom. Weren't you and Dad the ones who always told us that growing up isn't easy?" He cocked his head to the side slightly hoping she'd understand and not be upset. "Isn't that your part of it – letting go. I like to think that you and Dad did a pretty good job raising me but you've got to let me out of the nest."

"That's part of the problem, Sam," she confessed. "I keeping thinking you were pushed out of the nest too early. We expected you to handle things at 17 that most college freshmen wouldn't. Your brother," she said followed by a ragged breath, "was killed less than six months before you left and..." she paused again, remembering the pain she'd felt, "...then your father dying so suddenly. I've felt that perhaps in my own grief, I didn't think enough of yours."

Sam took his mother's shoulders into his hands and looked into her eyes. "Mom, whether or not that's true, we can't go back and change it now. You can't make up for it now. You can't put me under your wing and not expect me to push my way out. I've pretty much taken care of myself for twenty years. I can't stop doing that now even if it does make things easier for you."

Her eyes grew wide. "Oh, Sam, is that what you think? That I want to make it easier for me? That's not it at all. You and Katie are all I have left. I'm with Katie all the time. You...well, I'm always afraid we'll lose connection like we did after your father's funeral." She looked down. "I should have known then that something had happened that prevented you from being there. You were always so considerate and responsible. But losing your father was devastating to me. I loved him so."

Sam closed his eyes and hung his head down. Not for the first time he wished he hadn't been cursed, because that was how it felt sometimes, to be so different from everyone else. He wasn't the only one who had to adjust to it. Those that he loved had always been forced to adjust to things being outside the norm with him. He raised his head to meet his mother's eyes. "Mom, you're not gonna," he started to say but stopped. He licked his lips then started again. "You always said if you loved someone you had to set them free, that they'd come back if they really loved you. Mom, I love you. If you let me go, I will come back. Maybe not as quick as you'd like but it will happen."

She turned and took a step away. "I set Tom free. He couldn't come back," she answered quietly.

Sam knew his mother stilled carried the raw pain of his brother's death just as he did. He saw that hurt in her eyes. Bringing her even more hurt was the last thing he wanted to do. He had to make her understand, though, and that was likely to cause her hurt as well. "If you try to keep holding on to me," he said firmly, "you might end up pushing me away and I won't want to come back."

She blinked rapidly, trying to understand how Sam could say such a thing. "Oh, no. Don't say that, Sam. Please. I couldn't bear that." She looked away, tears forming in her eyes. She reached for a tissue. "I don't want to lose you too."

"Then you need to start listening to me, Mom. I know you're hearing me but sometimes I don't think you listen." He saw the tears in her eyes and fought his instinct to hug her and tell her he'd do whatever she needed to make her feel at ease. He could say that now but later but they'd come to this point again. "You're not going to lose me, Mom but you do have to loosen your hold."

She nodded, but still didn't look at him. "I'll try, Sam. I just know I can't turn off my heart."

"I'm not asking you too." This time he did lean over and pulled his mother to him. "I need to know that I'm not just your little boy. I need to know I'm your son." He pushed back so that he could see his mother's face, brushing a tear from her cheek. "You're not gonna lose me, Mom, so stop thinking that. Just because," he took a deep breath and pushed his own emotions down. "Just because you lost Tom doesn't mean the same thing's going to happen to me."

Feeling Sam's arms around her, the tears came a little stronger. She clung to his words, knowing he meant them from the heart. "I guess, it's how any parent feels when one loses a child," Thelma reasoned. "I know my mother was worried more about Billy and me when Kitty died."

"It's been too long, Mom. You gotta let it go."

Thelma took a deep, cleansing breath. "I know, Sam." A tentative smile crossed her face. "Maybe you can help me. Let me know if I'm getting too smothering?"

"I can do that." He took his mother's hand and raised it to his lips pressing a kiss on it. "Don't ever give up doing it completely, though. Sometimes I do need my Mama more than I need my Mom."

This time Thelma's smile broke through. "I glad to hear that, Sam. That's one job I'd rather not give up entirely."

"Good." Sam rose from the bed but didn't start out of the room yet. "Now that we've got things settled and I've settled things with Al, I think the two of you need to sit down and figure things out too so you don't keep fighting over me like I'm your cub. If you want, I'll play referee."

"I respect the Admiral, I really do. I just think that there are times when the way he handles things isn't in your best interest."

"I know and that's why I think the two of you need to talk this out. If you keep fighting over me, there's not going to be much of me left for the winner."

"I don't think it's exactly a contest, Sam," his mother said wryly.

"Well, that's not how it looks from my end of things and I'm the one getting knocked back and forth between the two of you." He pulled open the door to the bedroom and took a step out. "C'mon, I think Al's in the living room. The sooner we get this all straightened out, the better."

Thelma nodded and got up, putting on her slippers. Padding behind him, she waited for him to start things.

Al was watching an old Marilyn Monroe movie on the television. Seeing Sam but not Thelma, he quipped. "Marilyn. Now that was some woman. I think every man alive fantasized..." He stopped when he saw Sam's mother too. "about meeting her at the stage door," he finished.

"We need to talk, Al. All three of us," Sam said without preamble and ignoring Al's save. He grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. He gestured for his mother to sit by Al on the couch and sat on the coffee table facing the two of them.

"What?" asked Al, confused. Sam usually didn't take this tactic. He knew Sam could be formidable at times and had occasionally even lead a few sessions that reminded Al of "come to Jesus" meetings. His friend's voice seemed more in tune with that.

"We need to get some ground rules straight 'cause I'm tired of the two you batting me back and forth to see which one wins the prize." Sam held up a hand to stop either one from saying anything when it looked like they were both going to contradict him. "Right now it's my turn to talk." He waited until they both seemed to accept his declaration. "Now you both made it clear this afternoon that you've got some definite ideas how to "take care" of me. The only problem is that neither of you ever thought to ask me what I think. Now I'm going to tell you what I think and you're both going to sit there and listen, ok."

Thelma and Al nodded, neither one of them saying a word.

"Ok. First things first, from now on the hovering has to end. I appreciate why you're doing it but when I ask you, either of you, to lighten up, you need to do it. Otherwise, I feel like I'm a little kid and what I say doesn't matter." He waited until the other two nodded at him before continuing. "Now the two of you need to work out whatever it is that had you both up in arms this afternoon because I'm not going to pick between the two of you." He turned to his friend and addressed him. "Al, you might think your way is the best but it's not all the time. She's my mother and sometimes I need that. I need to be reminded that I used to be her little boy and that if that's what I need, I can still be her little boy." He looked over to his mother. "Mom, you need to accept that Al's only doing what he thinks is best for me. It might not always look that way but sometimes I really do need a swift kick in the butt instead of someone coddling me." He looked between the two of them. "Ok, it's your turn. What do you have to say?"

Al took a breath. "You know I never mean any disrespect to you, Thelma. I know how much family means to Sam."

Thelma nodded slightly but let Al continue.

"I know I've known your son much less time than you have but I think I know him pretty well."

"So Sam has said. I've known him since he was born so I'd say I know him pretty well too."

"I wasn't saying you don't," Al added. "However, I've interacted with him as a business partner, a colleague, and a friend. The Sam I know is different in some ways, I'm sure, then the Sam you've raised." He looked at Sam. "I understand that sometimes you might need what only Thelma can give you, Kid. I'd never want to come between you and your mother."

Thelma reached out to rest her hand on Sam's knee. "Honey, I really don't think there's anything Al and I have to say that you haven't already said." She looked over to the man seated beside her. "We were wrong to be arguing about who knows what's best for you earlier. Now that you've made us see that, it probably won't happen again."

"Probably?" Sam questioned.

His mother nodded. "We both feel so strongly about you, Sam. I don't think either of us could ever promise you that we'd never disagree where you're concerned again."

"I can agree with that," Al stated firmly.

"And I guess I'll have to live with it." Sam looked uncertainly between the two. He'd been anticipating some kind of resistance from the two but, surprisingly, things had gone smoother than he thought. "So, I guess it's all settled then. You're both gonna back off when I say so but Al's gonna give me a swift kick when I need it and you'll be there when I need to just be your son."

"Sounds about right, Kid." was said at the same time as "Yes, dear."

Al laughed. "Well, now that that's settled, you think we can go back to Marilyn? I really was enjoying the "Seven Year Itch."

Sam handed Al the remote. "Sure, knock yourself out." He got up from the coffee table and started out of the room. "I've got some stuff I want to work on."

"Ok, Sam." Al turned the movie back on. "You're welcome to watch with me if you'd like, Thelma."

"Thank you very much for the offer, Al, but I think I'll pass. I'm just going to go back to my room and read for a while. I'm feeling a little tired tonight and I think I might turn in early." When she got to the living room door she turned back, "You'll give him that kick in the butt he needs to make sure he gets to bed at a decent hour?"

"I'm not going there tonight," Al stated. "Sam's put the line in the sand. I don't think trying to rub it away would go over really well. Besides, he did sleep today. He'll be ok."

Thelma took a deep breath. This was going to be one of those times she'd warned Sam about where she and Al wouldn't agree. "I understand that you don't want to push at him, tonight especially, but he does need to get rest even if he did sleep earlier. He's still tired. I can tell by the way he kept pushing his food around his plate before he ate and the way he keeps rubbing at his eyes. He's done that for as long as I can remember. He needs to sleep naturally without a drug in his system."

Al considered her words. "Well, I guess I could ask him whether he's tired. But the words 'you can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink' sorta ring true here. If he chooses to ignore me, I think I'm going to have to accept that." He paused. "At least for now."

"You do realize," Thelma said trying a different tack, "that he's in your bedroom. You may have no choice but to shoo him off if you plan on going to bed. Unless, that is, you're going to forego sleep as well."

A broad smile crossed his face. "I like the way you think, Thelma."

Thelma matched his grin. "I'm only trying to think of what's best for the both of you." Her smile softened as she regarded the man in front of her. "I know you do your best to look out for him and that's all I can ask of you. I am sorry for speaking harshly to you earlier. I know you'd never intentionally cause Sam any harm."

Al nodded. "I think we both are just seeing the same thing and trying to help Sam through it the best way we know how." He shook his head, thinking about how Sam had definitely made his wishes known. "I guess we went a little overboard though."

I guess we did but I don't think Sam will let that happen again - at least without good reason." Thelma paused for a moment before saying, "Have a good night, Al, and don't forget to send him on his way so you can get some sleep too."

Once Al had bid her goodnight, Thelma left the room. She went down the hall to the guestroom. She stopped at the door to the office and watched Sam for a few moments. He didn't seem to notice her arrival and continued to read something on the computer screen oblivious to her scrutiny. Finally, Thelma went all the way into the office and rested a hand on Sam's shoulder. "I just wanted to say goodnight, Honey. I think I'm going to turn in now and read for a little while."

Sam turned from the computer and got up kissing his mother lightly on the cheek. "Have a good night, Mom."

"I will, Honey." She hesitated but went on, "Don't forget to get some sleep yourself. You need to be getting rest."

"I will, Mom," Sam reassured her. "Besides," he continued with a laugh, "If I don't, I'm sure Al will chase me away so he can go to bed."

Thelma laughed lightly as well. "Yes, I guess that's true," she agreed not wanting to tell Sam that she and Al had had a discussion nearly similar.

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Al finally had reached a point when watching the 'boob tube' no longer held any interest to him. He got up and headed back to his room. He'd hoped that Sam would have vacated before, but the kid had obviously decided that working was more pleasurable than counting sheep. As he hobbled down the hallway, he considered how he would approach the kid.

Sam had definitely made his desires known. Al had seldom seen him this determined, at least in pushing his own agenda. It wasn't that Sam didn't have a backbone or anything; it was more that he was the type to find a way that would be a win-win for everyone, and sometimes that took time. He'd find a way that, to use Mary Poppin's words, provided the sugar that would "help the medicine go down." That wasn't the case tonight. Sam hadn't cared whose boat he'd upturned, he'd asserted his needs without question.

So it was that Al headed to his room with trepidation, unsure of how the kid would respond to his request that both of them should probably get some sleep. With that frame of mind, he entered the room. "Hi, Sam. What 'cha reading?"

Sam finished the paragraph he was reading and marked his place with his finer. "It's the New England Journal of Medicine. I've gotten a little behind with it so I thought I'd try to catch up. Did you need something?"

"Well, Kid, I'm pretty tired. I was thinking that sleep might be a good thing to pursue."

"Oh," was all Sam said looking around quickly. He checked the small clock on the desk and saw that it was already 12:45. "I've still got a little more reading I wanted to do. I'm really behind with this. You want to just take my bed?"

"Sam, I'm not telling you what to do. You made it clear tonight that if I did it would go over like a lead balloon. However, you're a medical doctor. You know that your doctor made sense from a medical perspective when he said that you need rest. If you were treating someone with the experiences of the last couple of weeks that you've dealt with, what would you prescribe?"

"I hate when you do this," Sam said seeing the logic in Al's argument. "I hate when you're reasonable."

"You've taken away my ability to be an overprotective, unreasonable, meddling, SOB. What did you expect?" Al asked, with a teasing lilt to his voice.

"Maybe I've gotten used that overprotective, unreasonable, meddling SOB," Sam answered with the same teasing lilt. "At least I can tell him to stick it up his tailpipe. I can't really do that if you're being reasonable." He closed the magazine he'd been reading and put it on top of a small pile of other magazines that he planned to read. "I guess I can just take this and read it my room. Trouble is, when I try to read anything like this in bed, I end up falling asleep."

"Maybe that's not such a bad thing, Kid." When he realized this could be construed as being meddling again, Al turned back to reason. "I mean, if you feel comfortable enough that you drop off, maybe it's your body telling you that you need that sleep." He paused for a second, not sure how Sam would take this. "I mean, I'm just saying."

Sam let out a noisy breath and just stared at Al for a few seconds. "You know, I don't think I can do this. It's too much like sticking a bird in a cage when it's supposed to fly free. I feel like I'm cheating at a game or something." He kept his tone serious but light as well.

You were right...well to an extent you were right." Seeing the confused look on Sam's face, Al continued. "I can get overprotective. It's just my nature. Sometimes I probably need to be reminded that it isn't the most attractive point of my personality. I might be right about what I'm saying, but I need to learn to moderate it."

"It's not such a bad thing to care about someone so much you don't want anything to happen to them." Sam got up and crossed to where Al was grasping him by the shoulders. "And let's face it Al, you're not a Navy admiral, you're not a Navy jet jock, you're not an astronaut, and you're not a physicist. What you are is a professional meddler." He made sure as he spoke there was a smile on his face to take out any sting from his words.

Al cocked his head, just a bit. "How does being a professional meddler interfere with any of the others? Can't I be all of them?" His mouth formed into a grin. "The thing is...and at the risk of having you get upset with me again...you really do need your sleep to heal. As I say, as a physician, isn't that what you'd prescribe under the same circumstance?"

Sam shook his head and laughed lightly before going back to the desk and picking up the pile of magazines. "I'm not tired but I'll be a good boy and go to my room and read in bed." He started out the door but stopped. "You know, you really would be more comfortable if you just took my bed - and I'm not saying that just so I can stay in here and work."

"You're probably right kid, but I couldn't sleep knowing I'd deprived the master of his domain of his bed." He pointed to the sleeper sofa. "Besides, I've gotten used to this thing. I sleep on it enough." Al turned serious, still not totally sure about where things stood. "Sam. We're ok, aren't we?"

We always were, Al, we always were." Sam put the pile of magazines down and gestured for Al to sit on sofa bed. When he had, Sam pulled desk chair over so he could sit opposite his friend. "You know I was never really angry with you, don't you?"

Al looked at his best friend, and nodded. "I was pretty sure this was something that would blow over but the way you were acting, I wasn't entirely sure. Add to that the way you've been about being on _Time_ and all, and…well, I just figured…" He let the words trail off.

"That was part of it, yeah." Sam went silent and looked away from his friend trying to order his thoughts. He didn't want this conversation to devolve into another argument as it seemed every other conversation had today. "A lot of it is that I'm, frankly, sick and tired of doctors. I'm tired of being sick and I'm tired of having to have someone tell me what to do. I should know these things without you or Mom having to tell me. All of that added up and then there were the side effects from the Keflex just to make things a little more interesting. I was reading the drug sheet on it. Agitation is one of the side effects and I think I had that one in spades. I didn't know what to do with myself and you and Mom just happened to be in the way. I know that's no excuse, but it was a big part of what was going on." He looked away again not wanting to see his friend's face when he continued. "To tell you the truth, I'm also more than a little scared about those lab tests."

"Your kidneys," Al said solemnly.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. If there is a problem and it's bad enough it could mean dialysis. If that happens, it just sets everything back with the project." He got up and went over to the window looking out at the dark night. "We keep having delays and setbacks and they're going to pull the funding." He turned around to face Al. "I've worked too damned hard for this to lose it because of some stupid drug screwing up my body."

"You can't borrow trouble, Sam. You don't know what the test results are going to be."

"I'm not borrowing trouble. I'm just being a realist. Look how much time we've lost just this year because of me. It was almost three months after that car hit me before I was able to really work full time without having to take time off for doctor's appointments or physical therapy. That's not counting the time in January when I had bronchitis. At least when I had strep the first time in November it was over Thanksgiving." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked back over to where Al was sitting, shaking his head again. "No, Al. I'm not borrowing trouble. I know if we lose any more time because of me, the whole thing's going to be up. You know they're looking for just one good reason to close us down and if they can't prove I'm nuts, maybe my "fragile health" will work instead."

"I won't let that happen, Sam."

"How? How are you going to stop that from happening? If those lab tests are as screwed up as they could be, how are you going to change anything? They'd be right. I wouldn't be able to work." He threw himself down in the desk chair. "I really managed to find a way to screw up spectacularly. Why can't I just have a quiet, ordinary life like everyone else? Why does it always seem like something's happening?"

"Sam. There's always a way around things. If we have to, we'll build a dialysis center into the project. We'll find a way. I won't allow your dream to die."

"Sometimes I think maybe it should die. Maybe the cost of it is just going to be too high."

"Is that what you really want, Sam?" Al looked at him directly, trying to ascertain his commitment to the concept. If history was any oracle, then Sam was just spouting the words, not really believing them. Al knew that time travel was a passion to Sam. He couldn't conceive that the man would give up his idea.

"I don't know." It felt as if Al's gaze were trying to bore right through to his soul. Under it, Sam wilted. "No, it's not," he admitted softly. "Look, it's been a hell of day and that's probably why I'm saying all this." He grabbed his stack of reading material again. "I'm sorry that I'm dumping all of this on you. I'm just gonna go to my room and read for a while. Have a good night."

Al, hobbled back after Sam, catching him on his shoulder. "Sam, don't do this. You know that if there's a problem, a concern, anything, I'm here to listen." He stopped, collecting his thoughts. "You're worried. That's expected. But until you know for sure, it's just wasted worry. Better to expect the best. It could be nothing."

"You're right, Al, but it's easier to say it than to do it." Sam gave his friend a nudge back into the room. "You go on to bed. I'll be fine." He held up the stack of magazines. "I've got plenty here to keep me occupied and take my mind off it and you can have the night off. I don't think I can afford your over time," he said with a small laugh.

Al knew it was time to back down, at least a little. "Ok, Sam. But you know I'm here. Anything you need, Pal. Anything you need."

"I know, Al. Good night."

"Good night, Kid." He said. As Sam walked off, he said quieter, almost too soft to hear. "Be sure to get some sleep."

Sam went down to his bedroom. He dropped the pile of magazines on his bed then pulled a pair of pajamas from one of the dresser drawer and went into the bathroom to change. When he came back out, he got into bed with the intention of getting as far through the pile as possible. First, though, he sat reflecting on what he and Al had been talking about.

As much as he found it frustrating and stifling when Al went into overdrive with the hovering, he did have to admit that the man had a knack for getting him to say out loud things he wouldn't allow himself to think. This has been one of those times. Until he actually said it aloud to Al, he hadn't realized how much he'd been worried about the outcome of the lab tests and what it could mean for the continuation the project.

Determined not to dwell on it as Al suggested, he pushed it from his mind, opened the first magazine on the stack, and started to read. By the time he put them aside and turned off his light it was already after 3:00 in the morning.

QLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQLQL

Al had watched Sam walk down the hall to his room. Through the night, he'd kept waking and going to his door, seeing the light from Sam's room shining under the door. As much as he wanted to walk down the hall and tell the kid to go to bed, he didn't. Finally, when he awoke at 3:30 am for what seemed the 10th time, he saw the light in Sam's room was off when he checked this time. "Don't worry, Kid. We'll get through this too." Finally, sure that Sam would be all right, he fell into a deep slumber himself.


	7. Chapter 7

Thelma was the first up the next morning

**Chapter 7**

Thelma was the first up the next morning. She guessed that it wouldn't be long before Sam joined her and headed into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. She didn't want to start any breakfast preparations until her son and his friend were awake since she didn't know how long that would be.

While she waited for the coffee to finish brewing, she went into the refrigerator and pulled out the leftovers from last night's dinner. There was still a good deal of the rice leftover as well as chicken and she thought it would be the perfect starter for a pot of soup. If she put it on early, she could let it simmer on a low heat.

She went into the cabinet she knew Sam kept his pans in looking for a pot large enough. At the back of the cabinet, standing up straight, she found a cookie sheet there. She shook her head and laughed lightly when she saw it. "He probably had no idea what I was asking him for yesterday," she said softly. She located the pot she'd used in the past to make soup and pulled it out setting it on the stove.

The coffee had finished brewing; she'd had her first cup, and had chopped everything up for the soup when she finally heard movement headed toward the kitchen. Even without seeing who it was, she identified it as Al based on the fact that she could hear the crutches and the sound of movement was coming from the opposite direction of Sam's bedroom.

She'd been surprised when the scent of brewing coffee hadn't woken Sam and had gone to his room to check on him. She'd found him sprawled across the bed diagonally on his stomach deeply asleep. Guessing that despite any efforts Al had made Sam had gone to bed late; she backed out of the room quickly before she could awaken him.

"Good morning, Al," she greeted as the man walked through the door. "Did you have a good night?"

With a large yawn, Al shrugged. "I've had better. I was up and down until Sam finally turned off his light." He nodded to the coffee. "That smells wonderful."

"Let me pour you a cup. What do you mean you were up and down with Sam?" she asked as she handed him the cup coffee when he was settled on one of the stools in front of the kitchen island. "Was there something wrong?" Immediately she began to think of scenarios that could have played out during the night. "He wasn't sick because of the medication was he?"

"Oh no, not that," Al explained sipping at his coffee. "Oh, this is good coffee. I wish Sam had gotten your coffee making skills." He put the mug down and finished explaining. "No, the Kid wanted to catch up on medical journals. He took a stack with him to read."

"Ah, that explains why they're on his nightstand, his floor, and there's one in bed with him. I wasn't sure." Thelma poured another cup of coffee and sat down opposite Al. "So how long did it take before he finally fell asleep?"

Al took a deep breath. He could lie about the time but figured that Thelma would just call him on it. "The light went out about 3 a.m."

"Figures. Sometimes I think he just never learned to tell time. He can never seem to get to bed at a decent hour and if he gets caught up in something, being on time goes out the window." She smiled fondly at a memory. "He gets that from his father. Anything to do with the farm, John was right on time. Anything else and...well...my husband took fashionably late to heart."

Al smiled. "From what I understand, Sam and his father had quite a few similarities."

"He looks more and more like him every time I see him." She took a sip from her coffee and shook off any melancholy thoughts of her husband. "I'm surprised he's not up yet even if he did go to sleep so late. It's already after 8:00. I can't remember him ever sleeping late unless he was sick." She held up a hand to stave off anything Al might say. "I'm not saying he is. Just pointing out that that's generally the only reason why he sleeps late."

"Well, if it means he's on the mend sooner, I'm all for the sleeping late."

"I suppose. I was going to hold off making breakfast until you were both up but it looks like it might be a while before we hear from him. I could make something for us now. Is there anything you'd like?"

"I'd love some of your pancakes," Al said as the phone rang.

"Can you get that," Thelma asked indicating the phone, "and I'll get started on those pancakes."

Al nodded and reached over to get the phone. "Hello?" he asked. Over the next couple of minutes, Al learned it was the hospital calling with the test results Sam had been waiting on. Knowing Sam would want to talk with them, he told caller, "Can you hold? I'll get Dr. Beckett."

Thelma noticed the grave look on his face. "Al, who is it?"

Al covered the receiver. "It's the hospital. Sam will definitely want to take this call. I'll go get him."

He got up and headed towards Sam's room, knocking lightly when he arrived at the younger man's door. "Sam?" When there wasn't an answer, he pushed his way in and walked over to the sleeping form. Shaking him lightly, he tried to wake him. "Sam? It's the hospital. They have the results of the tests."

"Huh...wha?" Sam cracked an eye open curious to see who was disturbing his sleep. "'M not done sleepin'," he complained before rolling away from Al's shaking had.

"Sam. The tests you were worried about. The hospital needs to talk to you about them." He tried shaking him harder.

Al's words slowly penetrated through Sam's sleep-soaked brain and he slowly sat up blinking sleep from his eyes. "Hospital?" he asked. "Where?"

"On the phone, Sam. On the phone." He nodded to the phone beside the bed.

"The phone? Yeah, right." Sam picked up the phone and held it to his ear. "Hello," he said sleepily. It took a beat for him to realize he had the phone upside down and switched it around. "Hello," he said again but there was still no answer. "It's not working," he told his friend holding the phone out to him.

Al took the phone and held it to his ear for a moment. As Sam had said, it wasn't working. He took a chance and checked the connection at the wall and saw that it was unplugged. He guessed that Thelma has probably unplugged it yesterday afternoon when it kept ringing. "Try it now," he said after plugging the cord back in.

Sam picked up the phone again. "Hello," he said tentatively. He nodded at Al when he heard a voice on the other end to indicate that the phone was working. He listened to the caller on the other end. "Yeah, I'm Sam Beckett." He listened as the caller again spoke before again speaking. "Ok, thank you for calling. Bye." He reached over to hang the phone up then lay back down pulling the blankets up. "'Night, Al."

Al's eyebrows rose. "That's it, Kid? What did they say?"

"What did who say?" Sam asked with a touch of irritation. He was never at his sharpest right after being woken up especially if he didn't think he'd gotten enough sleep.

"The hospital. What did the hospital say?" He wanted to know if any of Sam's worries had been validated.

"Oh. Everything was negative. Nothing's wrong." Sam was ready to dismiss Al and his questions completely from his thoughts and finish getting the sleep he felt he deserved when the import of the call and what he'd been told finally hit him. His eyes popped open and sat back up quickly. "Al, there's nothing wrong," he repeated louder and with more enthusiasm this time. "The tests were all negative. I'm fine...well...not completely. I'm still feeling a little of the effects of the Keflex and my WBC was slightly elevated but that's normal 'cause of the infection I had." A broad grin broke over his face. "I was worrying for nothing. You were right."

Internally, Al gave sigh of relief. Outwardly, he acted as if he'd felt sure all along and lightly punched Sam's shoulder. "See, Kid. I won't steer you wrong."

"I know that - now." Sam stretched and yawned before rubbing his hands over his face. "What time is it? I feel like I just got to sleep a little while ago."

"It's about 8:30, Kid. Considering you didn't go to bed until..." He stopped quickly, cursing himself for revealing that he knew exactly when Sam went to sleep. He rubbed at his eyes, realizing that he was working on less sleep than normal himself. He prepared himself for Sam's reaction, which he figured, wouldn't be good.

Sam didn't pick up on Al's admission that he'd been keeping track of him. "That's about five hours. There used to be a time I could get three or four hours and I'd be good to go. Now I feel like I need about another eight hours." He pushed back the covers and started to get up. "I guess Mom's been up for a while."

"Um...Yeah, Sam. She's making pancakes," Al answered, happy that he'd dodged a bullet.

"So," Sam asked as he pulled on his bathrobe. "What time did you finally stop checking to see if I'd turned my light off?" He kept his tone light with no hint of accusation in it.

_Or not_, he thought. "Um, well it wasn't that I was up the whole time..." he started reasonably. It was the truth. He'd lie down and start to drop off, but then suddenly awaken and check again. That must have happened at least 6 times before he saw the light was off.

"Uh huh, I'm sure." Sam started to move in the direction of the master bath. "I'll meet you in the kitchen. Let Mom know I'm awake and I'm fine. I'm sure she's probably thinking up every reason under the sun for me to sleep late and she's probably been in here a half dozen times to check on me."

"I wouldn't know about that, Kid. I've only been up a short time myself."

"Well, just let her know I'm hale and hearty." Sam pushed the bathroom door shut effectively cutting him off from Al.

When he finished in the bathroom, he made his way down to the kitchen, yawning and stretching the whole way. "Morning, Mom," he greeted when he walked in. "There anymore coffee?"

"Yes, Sam. I'm glad Al was telling me the truth. You don't look too bad for wear."

"What do you mean telling you the truth?" Sam looked at Al accusingly. "Just what have you been telling my mother?" He'd sworn Al to secrecy about the lab testes. He didn't think his friend would betray his trust but he also knew how determined Thelma could be.

Thelma looked surprised at Sam's tone. "Only that you were up and there wasn't anything to worry about that you awoke so late." She tilted her head. "Is there something else?"

Sam realized that he'd jumped to conclusions. He should have known that Al wouldn't betray his trust. "Um, no Mom, there's nothing." He looked to his friend. "Sorry," he said contritely.

"No problem," Al said, although his eyes showed it had hurt that Sam would question his actions.

Sam saw the hurt in Al's eyes. He'd have to make it up to his friend but felt that right now might not be a good time. Instead, he felt it best to press on as if nothing had happened. "What are you making, Mom?"

"Pancakes. Al requested them," She said as she started to ladle the first batch in the skillet.

"If you don't mind," Sam said going to one of the kitchen cupboards and pulling down a bowl, "I'm just going to make some hot cereal. My stomach seems to be doing a little better and I don't want to tempt it. Hot cereal fits in with the BRAT diet.

Thelma nodded. "What ever you need, Sam. If you want me to make it for you, I can."

I can make it." He put the kettle of water on to boil and opened a package of Cream of Wheat into the bowl. He took the bowl over to the table and put it down at his place before going back to the cupboard and pulling out plates for Thelma and Al and setting the table. Once that was done, he went over to the kitchen phone and pulled the plug from the wall. "Is the phone in the living room still disconnected?"

"Um...I don't know." Al looked a bit confused. "I didn't reconnect it yesterday so unless one of you did." He looked over to the kitchen phone remembering that they'd unplugged all the phones yesterday. "How'd this one get plugged back in?"

"Oh," said Thelma. "I reconnected it and the one in the living room when I got up this morning. I didn't think it would be a good idea to leave disconnected in case someone was trying to get through. I was going to call Katie later, too."

"Katie's not calling back is she?" Sam asked as he got ready to plug the phone back in.

"No, I haven't called her yet. I thought I'd wait until after we ate."

"Oh, well, after you call her I'm going to disconnect everything." Sam sat down at the table to wait for the water to boil. "It's Sunday, there should be absolutely no reason for anyone to be calling and I'm going to make sure no one does. I really am going to do what I said and just do nothing. For at least today, the world begins and ends at the front door." Sam made the statement with firmness in his voice almost daring either Al or his mother to contradict his plans. They both kept saying they wanted him to rest and do nothing, well, that's just what he was going to do. "How about you, Mom? How does that sound to you?"

"I have no problem with that, Sam. I just want to see how your sister's family is doing. They plan to head back to Hawaii later today. Jim has to be back at the base on Wednesday and they want to get things settled before then.

"A quiet day," Al mused. He smiled. "You know, we never finished that game of Scrabble at the cabin."

Remembering the difficulties that the Scrabble game had posed, Sam shook his head quickly. "I don't think that's such a good idea. I really don't think Scrabble is a good game for us to play."

"Um, ok. If you say so." Al was a little surprised at that. Sure, the game at the cabin had opened up some issues for the two men, but nothing that was truly disturbing from his point of view. Obviously, Sam had a different take on the whole thing.

Thelma looked at Sam. "You used to love that game."

"I know and I still do." The kettle started to whistle indicating the water was boiled and Sam got up to get it. "Let's just say we're a little too competitive to play." He shot Al a look that clearly said he didn't want his friend to elaborate. He felt if he did, it would only end up hurting Thelma.

Thelma looked between the two men and decided to let it drop. "You know, I'd still love to hear you play piano. It's been awhile since I've heard you," she requested.

Sam didn't know what to say. Ordinarily he'd be more than happy to fulfill his mother's request but right now, sitting down at the piano just didn't appeal to him. It was odd since it was something he generally found peace and refuge in. "Maybe later, Mom," he offered with a small smile as he returned the kettle to the stove. He sat back down and started to stir the cereal. He started to reach for the sugar bowl but then pushed it away. "I guess I'll have to eat it plain today."

Thelma gazed at her son. He still didn't seem 100 over the problems that medicine had caused. "All right, Sam. Would you mind if I played?"

"No, Mom, that's fine. I guess I just don't feel much like it. I was thinking of just putting in one of the movies that Al gave me for Christmas."

"That sounds nice, too." She finished the first plate of pancakes and put them in front of Al."

"Yeah. Movies, music, and nothing else. Sounds like a good day." Al said. He wasn't going to push Sam any. If the Kid was ready to rest, he was all for it.

Sam watched quietly as Thelma put together another plate of pancakes. As much as he was enjoying the opportunity to spend time with his mother, he was also anxious for life to take on more of the normalcy he was used to. For that to happen it would mean getting back to work at the project but, as he'd told Al, he couldn't very well do that and leave his mother here alone. "So, Mom," he started to ask casually, "have you thought about when you might head back home?"

Thelma smiled. She had a little teasing in her voice as she asked, "Why, you wanting to get rid of me?"

"No, Mom. That's not it. I just figured, well, you hadn't planned on being gone so long and, well, you might want to get home soon since Katie's going back and..." he trailed off fearing he'd made things sound even worse.

Thelma turned off the stove and went over to sit down and eat her own pancakes. "Well, I was thinking I'd spend New Year's Day with you and then see where we stood. I'm here as long as you need me, Sam."

"I know, Mom and I appreciate that. I just," he took a deep breath and decided that honesty was the best way to go. "I just want things to get back to normal right now and part of that means getting back to work but I can't really do that and leave you alone here." He put the spoon down in the bowl and reached out to lay his hand on his mother's arm. "It's not that I don't want you here, Mom. I love having you here. I just...I just..." He trailed off and dropped his head down. "I'm not saying this very well."

"You're saying that you don't want me to be alone? Sam, that hasn't been a problem for years. Before I went to live with Katie, I was able to take care of myself." She laughed. "You know, you're one to talk about overprotectiveness. You do the same thing."

"No, that's not what I'm saying at all. I know you can be alone, Mom. I just feel like the past week or so everything has spiraled out of control. I want that control back. I want things to be the way they're supposed to be but if you're here waiting for me, then things aren't normal." He saw the confusion and growing hurt on his mother's face. "I'm sorry, Mom, I really am. I don't mean to hurt you. I just need to find balance again and I think you do too."

Thelma took a breath. "When do you want me to leave then, Sam?"

"It's not that I want you to leave, Mom. I just think it's important for both of us that things get back on track. Please, try to understand what I'm saying." His eyes begged her to understand that what he was saying was coming from love and not from a desire to distance her from him.

"Sam, I'm not sure what you want right now." She tried to explain her difficulty. "Yesterday you make it clear that I'm being too smothering. Today you talk about balance for both of us. What is it you want? You know I only want you to be happy."

Al had sat back hoping that the conversation would turn less personal, but that didn't seem to be the case. He was almost finished with his pancakes but didn't really feel like finishing them. He got up. "I'm going to go get ready for the day. Excuse me," he said, heading out and leaving the two to work the situation out between them.

"I just want things to be normal," Sam sighed. "That's all I want."

"And my leaving will make things normal?" Thelma asked.

Sam was regretting ever bringing it up. It wasn't worth the heartache he was causing his mother. "No, Mom," he said softly. "Just forget I said anything. I'm sorry for disappointing you."

Thelma sighed and went over to Sam, giving him a hug. "Oh, Sam, you don't disappoint me. I just..." She tried to find the words to tell him what she wanted to say, "...I'm not sure how to say it." She blew out a breath. "You've always had a part of you that seems to need more that what we could give you. It's part of the reason that Tom so wanted you to go to MIT and why your father convinced me that you needed to go. Just let me know what it is you need. I'll understand."

Sam gratefully returned the hug. "I don't know. I don't know what I want. I just know things have to be normal again." He knew it was the same thing he kept repeating and that his mother didn't know what he meant by it but he wasn't completely sure anymore either. He felt the tears on his mother's face and heard a small sob come from her. "Please don't cry, Mama. I didn't mean to make you cry."

"I'm sorry, Sam. I don't know why I'm crying. I guess it's just that I love you so much and I don't know how to make things right for you." She hugged him tightly once more. "I could get a plane out today if you want that."

"No, that's not what I want, Mom. You can stay as long as you want. I just thought it would help all of us if we knew what was going to happen."

"Well," she said, wiping away her tears and pulling herself together. "I planned to at least stay past New Years Day. Perhaps I can book a flight home for the second. Would that be ok?"

"If that's what you want, Mom." Sam reached out a hand to brush the tears from his mother's cheek. "I don't want you to feel like I'm chasing you away."

Thelma sighed deeply. "I know you don't want to hurt me, Sam and I know you don't want me to feel bad that you feel it's best for me to go. Still, it stings a little, Honey. Don't worry though; I'm a tough old bird." She moved to him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Now eat your breakfast."

"Yes, Ma'am,' Sam obediently agreed. There was no doubt he hadn't communicated his thoughts and feelings very well. Until he was able to do that, it was best just to let the subject matter drop for now. He started to slowly spoon the cereal into his mouth and noticed Al's half-full plate. "I should let Al know the coast is clear," he said as he got up from the table.

Thelma nodded. "I can make him some fresh pancakes. Those cold ones probably won't taste too good," she said as Sam got up to leave.

He felt bad that he'd ended chasing the man away before he'd finished eating. This was the second meal in a row he'd managed to make difficult and unpleasant. He walked out of the kitchen and went down to the office. Seeing the door closed, he guessed Al was inside and knocked. "Al, you in there?"

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Al had returned to his book. This was turning out to be much different from the visit Thelma had made two short years before to Sam's abode. Al could feel there was a tension now that Sam had never shown before in any of his interactions with his mother. Hearing the tap on the door and Sam's question, he answered. "Yeah. I'm here. Come on in." He put a piece of paper in to mark his place and laid the book beside him.

Sam pushed the door open and came into the room shutting it behind him. He leaned against it looking at his friend. "I thought you were going to get ready for the day?" He forced a nervous chuckle. "I know you wear some weird stuff but even for you silk pajamas during the day is more than a little weird."

"I just decided to read a little before I did," he said nodding to his book. "I didn't know how long you and your mother would be."

"Yeah. Ah, about that. I'm sorry. I know you probably felt like you were in the middle of a minefield or something there. I didn't mean for that to happen. Hell, I didn't mean for a whole lot to happen."

Al nodded, not saying anything. The last few weeks had turned out to be an intense time for the kid. He knew he'd been pushing Sam and was doing his best to back off. "I'll get ready and then be out. Should only take me a few minutes."

"Mom's making you a new batch of pancakes. I'll let her know." Sam pulled the door open and started to leave but stopped. "Do you think I was wrong?" He asked the question to the door not having the courage to turn around and see condemnation in his friend's eyes if he did think he was wrong.

"About asking for your desires to be considered?" Al asked, a bit surprised by the question.

Sam turned around, leaned against the closed door once again, and shrugged. "That and basically telling Mom to go home." He reached up and covered his eyes with his hand. "Geez, I did everything but hand her a plane ticket."

"Well, you didn't use much finesse there, Sam," Al observed. "I'm sure your mother is feeling a bit confused by the way you're acting." He took a breath. "You've go to admit, it's not how you handle things usually."

"I just wanted to know what her plans are, that's all. I mean, if she's planning on moving here with me, don't you think I should know that?"

"What gave you that idea, Sam?" From Al's point of view, that had come out of left field.

"Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating a little. She's probably not planning on moving in. I just want to know how I should be planning things. I need to get back to the project but I'm not going to do that and just leave her here. I can't even really do a lot of work around here because I might say something Mom's not supposed to know about. You saw what happened at dinner last night. I just feel like everything's dangling right now and I'd like some clue to what's gonna happen."

Thelma's voice came through the hall. "Pancakes are done."

Sam opened the door and poked his head out. "We'll be right there, Mom." He pulled his head back in and closed the door. "I shouldn't be putting you in the middle of this so just forget I asked." He put his hand on the doorknob and started to pull it open. "C'mon, this time I promise not to say anything and let you eat in peace."

Al nodded. "Well, you better let me get a move on or things may not be any better." He thought for a moment. "You know, I need some things at the store. I could probably get what I need at WalMart," he said with a shrug. "Since I can't drive, maybe your mother would be willing to go with me. That would give you some time to get a little work done."

"I'll drive you," Sam quickly said. "I need to get out for a little while so that's a good excuse. You get dressed and I'll let Mom know you'll be right there."

"Ok, Kid." After Sam left, Al quickly pulled out some casual clothes. With the cast on his leg, very little of his better-fitted outfits worked. He sighed, knowing that he had a little over a month of having to wear the thing.

As he put on his clothes, he realized that these last few weeks had been intense for him as well. He and Sam had again had time to really get to know one another. He closed his eyes, remembering how often Vietnam had come up in the conversations in the cabin. He'd buried those feelings for so long, that he'd almost convinced himself he effectively banished them. Now he knew they were still there, under the surface. Sighing, he pushed the thoughts away and headed back to the kitchen.

Once Al joined Thelma and Sam in the kitchen, the three again began to eat breakfast. This time a concerted effort was made on all parts to steer the conversation clear of anything that could cause difficulties and to keep it light. "I'll clean up the kitchen," Sam offered when they were done eating. "Al needs to pick up some stuff. I'm going to drive him to WalMart once I take a shower and get dressed. Do you need anything, Mom?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Ok, Mom. Why don't you go call Katie in the living room and I'll get started on cleaning up." Sam was grateful that Thelma hadn't offered to come with them. He wasn't sure he could have found a way to tactfully suggest she stay behind.

She smiled. "I'm glad you remembered, Sam. I'm sure your sister will be glad to talk with you."

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to talking with her too." Sam piled the plates near the sink and started to scrape the remaining food off them into the trash can. As his mother left the kitchen, he put down the plate he'd been scraping off and moved in the direction of the kitchen door as well. "I'll be right back," he told Al when he looked at him curiously.

He went to his bedroom and retrieved the package of medication from where he left it on the top of the dresser and went back to the kitchen. "Almost forgot this," he told his friend holding it up so he could see it. He popped out one of the pills and swallowed it with some water. "Have you been taking yours?" he asked curiously as he went back to his clean up.

Al watched Sam leave, wondering if he'd be in the living room with his mother. Instead, the man returned with his medications. At the question Sam shot his way, he nodded. "Yeah. Haven't missed one. The thought of losing my leg if I don't doesn't appeal to me."

"Good." Sam put the last dish in the dishwasher, added the soap and turned it on. "I still think it's unfair. You take medication and nothing happens. I take it and I turn into either a zombie or the world's biggest bastard. Why can't you deal with side effects just once?"

Al shrugged Sam's outburst away. He figured they'd be able to talk in the car during their shopping trip. "Listen, I'm going back to my book. When you're ready to leave let me know." As he got up and headed to the door, he added. "And say hi to Katie for me."

"I will." Sam waited until Al was almost to the door before calling out to him. "I really don't mean I want you to have any side effects, you know, I'm just tired of always getting them."

"I told you, Sam, after I got back from Nam, they had me on so many things, I think I developed a tolerance." He continued on. "I'll be in my room reading."

Sam watched Al leave the kitchen in a silent shock. When the man was out of the room he hit his forehead repeatedly with the palm of his hand. "Idiot, idiot, idiot," he scolded himself. So far this morning he'd managed to make his mother think he was trying to get rid of her and now he'd brought back unpleasant memories for Al. "Why don't you just find a gun and blow both of their brains out, it'll be a hell of a lot faster than what you're doing." He was almost afraid to get on the phone with his sister. At the rate he was going, he'd probably tell her she had an ugly baby.

He finished cleaning up in the kitchen and headed to his bedroom and the master bath to shower and dress for the day. As he passed his mother, she held out the phone and asked if he wanted to speak with his sister. He accepted the phone with some small trepidation. After a brief conversation where he assured her that he was fine and the exchange of pleasantries, he handed the phone back to his mother.

Twenty minutes later he came out of his room showered and dressed. He went back to the office to let Al know he was ready to go. This time the door was partially open and he poked his head in. "I'm all set."

Al again marked his place. "Ok." He got up, grabbing his wallet off the desk. "I'm ready too."

Sam stepped back and let Al out of the room in front of him. "So what do you need to pick up anyway?" Sam asked as the walked down to the foyer.

"Um, well, I need to get a few items. A lot of things don't go over the cast too well. I thought I'd get a few things that I can use for the next few weeks. That and a few personal items too."

"You sure you don't just want to give me a list and I can pick it up for you. It's not going to be easy getting around the store for long on those things. You know how hard it was when I was on crutches and we went to the mall."

"Well, they do have those carts that you can push me in," smiled Al.

Sam just looked at Al for a few moments. "You are kidding me, aren't you? If you aren't, just give me a list. I told you, I don't feel like hauling your butt around and that includes pushing it around."

"Ah, come on, Sam. You won't pick up the things I will."

"You got that right. I'd pick out stuff that I don't need a pair of sunglasses to look at." When they got to the living room, Sam saw that Thelma was still on the phone with Katie. He indicated to her that he and Al would be leaving.

Thelma nodded but continued the conversation.

Sam pulled his coat and Al's from the coat closet. He helped Al into his then pulled his on. He put his hand into his pocket looking for his keys but didn't find them there. "Where'd I put the keys when we got back yesterday? I thought I had them in my pocket."

"Um, maybe your Mom has them. I think I saw her take them out of the door when we came in yesterday since you left them there."

"Oh, yeah. Why don't you meet me in the garage and I'll see where she put them." Sam went into the living room and waited until his mother had noticed him and put the phone down. "Sorry, Mom, I don't mean to bother you. I'm just not sure where you put the car keys yesterday."

She nodded towards the kitchen. "I hung them up, honey, on the key holder."

"Key holder?" Sam questioned not sure what she was talking about. The only place he ever put his keys was in his coat pocket or on the top of his dresser..., occasionally a kitchen counter, or his desk. He never hung them up anywhere.

"Yes, Sam. The one in the laundry room."

"The one in the laundry room? Ok, I'll check there. We'll be back in a little while." Sam went to the laundry room still not sure what his mother was talking about but it became clear when he walked in the room and noticed the hook by the door leading to the garage. The hook had been there since he moved in and he'd hung keys he didn't use there. He wasn't even sure what some of the keys were for anymore. His mother must have thought that that was where he kept the keys since he saw his keyring hanging there.

He pulled it off the hook and went out the door where Al was waiting by the car. He unlocked the passenger door and helped him in putting the crutches in the back seat before getting in the driver's side. "Ok, so why do you really want to go out and go shopping?" he asked as he triggered the garage door opener and backed out. "I know how fond you are of WalMart."

"Well originally, it was just to give you some time to do some work. I figured your mother would go with me and that would give you some of the time you were looking for earlier." He paused. "But then when you said you'd go with me, I figured it might be a good time to talk about what you started last night."

"So basically you wanted to separate me and Mom for a while." He pulled into the street and glanced quickly at Al. "What do you mean what I started last night? I thought we came to an understanding. Don't tell me you're going to start getting on me again about every little thing."

"No, Sam. That's not it. I told you, I'm willing to work on that and I meant it. I was talking about Rob Motts. You seemed eager to tell me about him and what he's doing in the computer arena."

"Oh, yeah. He's doing some really cutting edge stuff in artificial intelligence. I really think we could use him."

"What kind of cutting edge stuff?"

"I'm not sure of all the specifics, you saw how far behind on my reading I've gotten. I now he's developed some novel coding language based on a pseudoneuroloigcal electrical pulses. I've got a feeling about this guy and that he can really help. I just need to do a little more reading and investigating then I really think we should try to get him out here. That's not going to be so easy, though."

"Why not? We've got a great project and with that _Time_ article, I'd imagine it's gonna be easy to get people to join it."

"From what I do know he's got a good thing going at the Kendall Institute in LA and he's living on the beach in Malibu. Would you want to trade that to live underground in the middle of the New Mexico desert? Plus, you know the committee would love to close us down and keep looking for any reason." He grimaced slightly. "Don't you think I know that they think I'm nuts. Hell, for all I know some of them probably think I'm dangerous or something. We're not exactly a cushy gig here."

"Well..." said Al, a little uncomfortable with how close Sam was to the truth, "as I said, that _Time_ magazine article should go a long way towards helping them see you're not nuts..." When Sam gave him a strange look at that, he explained his rational. "I mean, they did interview a lot of top physicists from the leading research and think tanks. None of them said you were nuts...um...exactly."

"Yeah, and none of them know half of what the committee knows about this project. Hell, sometimes I think I am a little nuts."

"You're not nuts, Kid," Al said firmly. "Not unless I am too, and I know I'm not."

Sam laughed lightly. "That I'd beg to differ with but it has nothing to do with time travel or the project." He grew serious again and looked over to Al. "We need to get this guy. I've got a feeling about him."

Al nodded. "I can start making some inquiries."

"Thanks. Meantime, I'll start reading up on him more. It's not going to help our case if we're not totally up on what he's doing."

"Sounds good. Anything else on your mind, Kid?"

"Not really, why?"

"I don't know." He took a breath and shifted. "You feeling better? I mean, those med problems going away?"

"Most of them." Catching sight of Al's face, Sam shrugged and explained, "the stomach thing's the only thing still bothering me. That can happen with any anti-biotic so I guess I just have to grin and bear it 'til it passes. There's only three more days for the Zithromax so it shouldn't be too much longer."

"Ok." Al didn't say anything for another minute. "What are you going to do about your mother, Sam?"

"I don't know. What can I do? Mom's gonna be Mom. I can try to get her to change but I don't think that's going to happen. She's always going to see me as her little boy. I'm not sure I can change that and it seems like when I do I end up hurting her. I don't suppose you have any ideas."

Al shook his head but then tilted it, an idea coming to the fore. "Well, my sec...no fourth wife. Yeah. She sometimes was a bit overprotective with me. I eventually had to just tell her to stop."

"I tried that last night, remember. You saw how well that worked." Sam paused for just a moment. "Like I said, Mom's gonna be Mom. I just have to accept it just like I have to accept that my kitchen is not mine as long as she's here.

"Well...I've got to admit, she's a great cook."

"I'm not denying that. I know Mom's a good cook. I just wish she'd sit down and not take charge, though. I'm not completely helpless in the kitchen."

"Why don't you just tell her you're making dinner tonight or tomorrow?"

"Oh, yeah. I can see how well that would work. She'd be in the kitchen the whole time to 'supervise' me."

"I can occupy her in a card or some other game, Sam."

Al's offer intrigued Sam. "I do still have those steaks I've been meaning to cook and I said I was going to do that when we got home," he said in a low voice. Louder he said, "You keep Mom occupied long enough for me to make dinner and I'll…I'll…I'll let you spend the day with Weitzman next time he comes out to visit." He said last extremely fast in the hopes that Al would simply agree to the implied offer of doing something.

"No way, Kid," Al said with a laugh. "I'll keep your mother occupied for you but Weitzman's still your problem."

I was hoping you wouldn't catch that." Sam heaved a martyred sigh. "I guess I'll just have to spend the day with him and hope he doesn't think I'm too looney. Of course, without you there kicking me when I'm getting too far out there for Weitzman, I just might say something to him that'll convince him I've gone around the bend." He looked over to gauge the effect his words were having. By the look on Al's face, he knew he wasn't getting out of time with Weitzman. "Not buying that, are you?"

"Nope. I'll just make sure that Gooshie's with you. Weitzman will be spending so much time trying to think how to get away from the halitosis; he won't even notice any of your way out statements."

"That's an idea. I'd like it even better if we just sent him off with Gooshie."

"He's not going to be satisfied with just Gooshie, Kid. Face it, he's gonna want to talk with the top dog."

"Well, I still think you're the better choice but, a bets a bet," Sam said before his friend could object. He steered the conversation back to where it had been before he'd mentioned Weitzman. "You keep Mom occupied tonight and I'll cook those steaks for dinner. I can defrost them in the microwave and they'll be fine. Tomorrow's New Year's Eve. I was gonna call the Hungry Dragon and order some takeout for dinner." As he spoke, Sam pulled into the parking lot. He looked for a space close to the door but when he didn't find one stopped in the fire lane. "Why don't you get out here, I'll park the car and meet you."

"Ok, Kid. I'll just sit on the bench over there."

Sam got out of the car to help Al out and to get the crutches for him. Once his friend was seated on the bench he'd pointed out, he got back in the car and drove away. He ended up having to go to the far end of the lot before he found a space. Once he parked, he jogged back over to where he'd left Al waiting. "I think everyone's decided to shop here today," he said as they walked into the store. "I didn't think I was going to find a space."

Al groaned. "Just great. Fighting the WalMart hoards. You want to come back another time when there are less people?"

"I can live with it." Sam grabbed an empty shopping cart. "You need one of these?"

Al shook his head. "I want one of those." It was one of the newer carts that had been created for those who couldn't get around the store well. "You can push me."

"You were really serious about that?" Sam asked in surprise. "I thought you were just pulling my leg."

Al looked at his crutches. "Nah, I think it would be easier. I remember you in the mall and if there are all those people, it should make things go faster."

"Ok." Sam put the shopping cart back trading it in for one that Al could sit on while he pushed. "You wanna just tell me why it is that I'm pushing you around like your the king or something but when I had the broken leg I hobbled everywhere on crutches. I don't remember you pushing me around."

"They didn't have one of these in the mall."

"Well, what about when we went to the Air and Space Museum? I walked the length of that thing at least twice." Sam conveniently forgot that when they had spent the afternoon in the Air and Space Museum he'd been the one to declare that he was not going to sit in a wheelchair while Al pushed him.

"Yeah...but only because you decided to let that stubborn streak of yours have free reign! I wanted to get a wheelchair for you. You're the one who didn't want it."

"Well, ok, there was that but I don't remember you really putting up much of an argument." He started to push the cart deeper in the store groaning theatrically when he did so. "You know that was a great afternoon. I had a lot fun." Recalling the events that had transpired that night he added, "Not so much when we got back to the hotel but the museum was great."

"Sam, when you're on a good stubborn, arguing is about as effective as trying to sop up the ocean with a tissue." Al didn't say anything about Sam's comments about what happened when they'd returned for the Air and Space Museum. He wondered how much of that Sam remembered clearly. He knew what the younger man did remember embarrassed him.

"Pot, meet the kettle," Sam grumbled to the back of Al's head. Louder he asked, "Where to?"

"Well, I want to get some sweats and a few t-shirts."

Sam stopped pushing and came around so that he could see Al's face. "You're kidding me, right. We came out here to get some sweats and t-shirts? You didn't have any at your place you could have packed when we were there yesterday? Or I could have loaned you some."

"No, I'm not kidding. I don't usually buy those kinds of things so I don't really have any. However, they were comfortable in the cabin and with this damned cast, comfortable trumps fashion. Take a right up the next aisle, it's faster." Once directions had been provided, he finished, "As to wearing yours, they're too big. I feel like a little kid wearing his big brother's clothes."

Sam turned in the direction indicated. "How do you know what's faster? I thought you hated this place."

"I do. That's why I know the fastest ways to get around. If I have to be here, I want to make it quick."

"I guess that makes sense." Sam made an unscheduled turn causing Al to look back at him in question. "You might not like to shop here but I end up here a lot. I'm betting I know a few shortcuts that you don't know about." He zigzagged up a couple of more aisles before stopping in front of a display of sweats. "Ok, what size and what color?"

"I don't know. These are just sweats. Grey?"

"Grey? And you call me boring. I thought for sure you'd want the red or blue." Sam started to sift through the pile of grey sweatpants and held a pair up. "This is a medium. You think that'll fit you?"

"You are boring...and so are sweatpants." Al considered Sam's statement. "These are rather cheap clothing. The color of the red one's might run. Blue's good I guess. Black would work as well." Looking at the sweatpants his eyes narrowed. "I wonder if they shrink."

Sam chose to ignore Al's accusation of boredom and instead addressed his friend's concerns. "The red doesn't run and unless you're gonna wash them in boiling hot water and then dry them on the hottest setting, they aren't going to shrink." Seeing the disbelieving look on his friend's face he added, "Remember, I'm boring. I own quite a few of these. Besides, you complained that mine were too big. They're all large and I've washed them plenty of times."

"That makes sense. Medium's are fine. Maybe one each in grey, blue, and black." He turned away and saw another rack next to the first one. There were green and turquoise sweats on that rack. "Oh. I didn't see these. Maybe a pair of each of these too."

Sam started pulling out the items Al indicated tossing them into the basket. "Navy blue or the other blue." Personally, he'd opt for the navy but with Al, you never could tell.

"Other blue? Oh, that's robin's egg...nah, the navy and turquoise will be enough from that palette."

Sam pulled out pants and shirts in green and turquoise. "Robin's egg," he muttered as he tossed them in the basket with the rest. "What the heck happened to just blue." He grabbed six more pairs of the sweatpants in gray, black and navy and tossed them in as well.

"What are those for?" Al asked, confused as to why Sam had put duplicates of some colors in the basket.

"They're for me. Some of mine have gotten a little grubby. I figure since I'm here I might as well replace them."

"Ok."

"So where to now?" Sam asked again starting to push the cart. He didn't get far before stopping and checking his pockets. He pulled out his wallet from his back pocket but there was nothing else in his pockets but his keys. He flipped open his wallet knowing what he'd find there - the single twenty dollar bill he had and the one credit card that he'd maxed out. His checkbook was still sitting on his desk at home and he hadn't gone to the bank yesterday. He grabbed the sweats he'd thrown in for himself and started to put them back. "I left my checkbook at home so I guess I'll just have to come back later," he said by way of explanation.

"I'll get them." When Sam started balking Al explained, "You can give me the check when we get back. It's not like I'm buying them for you."

Sam stopped and tossed the clothes back in the cart. "Ok. I'll write you out a check as soon as we get back. I still have to pay you back for the plane and hotel, too. I'll even go to the bank for you tomorrow morning." He bit his lower lip before adding, "I was going to get some stuff for the house while we here, too. Would you mind?"

"That sounds good. I have a few other things to get, too." He told Sam what they were thinking through the list in his mind.

"Sounds good." Sam started in the direction of the next item on Al's list. Eventually all the items that Al had mentioned were added to the cart as well as few things that Sam needed and he started in the direction of the checkout. Sam groaned to himself when he saw how long the lines were although it was expected since the parking lot had been so full. He picked what looked like the shortest line.

After ten minutes in the line that moved the slowest due to the new cashier in training, Al piped up. "Um, Sam? I just remembered. I need some socks too."

"What? Did you just think of that now?" After five minutes in line, Sam had already started getting impatient. Now, ten minutes later, his patience was being pushed to its limits. "Just borrow some of mine."

"Your feet are too big," he said, adding, "Besides, I like having my own socks."

"My feet are too...Al, they're just socks. I'm not telling you to wear my shoes."

Al shook his head. "I know, I know. It might be anal and all, but I hate wearing other's people's socks...although, other people's underwear is worse."

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly trying to remain reasonable. "I have a package Mom sent me for Christmas. It's unopened. You can take them." There was no way Sam was getting out of the line, not after standing in it for ten minutes nor was he going to push the loaded cart back across the store. He had to draw a line somewhere.

The lady in front of them turned around and looked at the two men, shaking her head.

Sam waited until the woman turned back to the front. "Great," he grumbled in a low voice that wouldn't carry to the woman. "I love calling attention to myself in a store."

"Ah, come on Sam. I'd really just like my own socks. Is it that hard a request to honor?"

"Fine," Sam pulled the cart out of the line and pushed it so that it was out of the way. "I'll go get them. I'm not pushing your butt all the way back there. Just tell me what kind you want."

"I want to choose. Can't I go too?"

"Not for nothing but you're not a lightweight," Sam pointed out. "I'm getting tired. Socks are socks. Why do you need to pick them out?"

Al narrowed his eyes at Sam. "I'll have you know, I keep myself in excellent condition. I've never had any complaints, if you know what I mean." Then he explained why he wanted to pick out his socks. "I like a certain amount of elastic. You can't tell that in the closed packages so I choose from the individual ones. You won't be able to tell which have too much elastic and which have too little."

"I never said you weren't in good condition. In fact you look great but that's not the point," Sam argued. Several people walked by them looking in their direction in interest. "Great, they probably think we're having a lover's quarrel or something." He abruptly started to push Al in the direction of men's socks. "Fine, you want to pick out your own socks you pick out your socks but I'm getting payback for this and don't think I'm not going to collect."

"What are you thinking of?" Al asked casually, noting that Sam was pushing him quicker than before.

"Congratulations, it's a Weitzman," Sam announced with mock cheerfulness. "You're making me get out of that line that we're going to have to get back into and you're making me haul your butt across this place again so you're gonna have to deal with Weitzman."

Al looked at Sam. No matter that he had a smile on his face, he knew there was a seriousness to the request. He'd been giving the kid a hard time about this, but ultimately knew that it was, in fact, in the best interest of the project to be the one to work things out with the head nozzle of the committee. He didn't want to let Sam know that though. "Oh gee. Give me Weitzman. Sure...that's fair, socks for the nozzle." Seeing Sam taking him too seriously, he sighed. "Fine, you're right. Now let's just get the socks."

Socks picked out, they went back to the checkout line. This time Sam was very careful to pick a different line than the one they'd been in. It was a longer line but he was willing to gamble that it would take less time to get through it than the original line they'd been in.

Once they'd finished at the checkout, Sam pushed the cart back to where they'd picked it up. While Al got out of it and balanced on the crutches, Sam gathered up bags. He and Al walked out of the store and he gestured to the bench where his friend had waited for him earlier. "Why don't you wait here with the bags and I'll go get the car."

Al nodded. "Sounds like a good plan." He watched Sam walk into the parking lot and checked out the bench he'd sat on before. The woman that had been in the first line before them was sitting there. He went over and sat down. She glanced over at him and the packages.

"Broke your leg, huh?" she said nodding to his leg.

"Yeah. I was skiing," he answered, making conversation.

"I see. Was your friend with you there as well?"

"Yeah." He wondered where the questions were coming from. "Why?"

"Oh, I just wondered if he was your caretaker or something. Seems like a nice young man."

"Caretaker?"

"Well, he was pushing the cart around. You two don't exactly look like family."

"He's my stepson from my second marriage," Al lied, not sure why he was doing this.

"Oh. Well, it must be nice to have your son be so helpful. All my children have moved away."

Al nodded. "Yeah, Sam's the best son a man could ask for. Are you waiting for someone?"

"Um, yes. My neighbor. She brought me to the store. She dropped me off and will be back as soon as she finishes her grocery shopping. Soon, I hope."

As Sam drove up and got out of the car, he saw Al speaking with the woman who'd looked back at them when they were in the first line. He came around the car and picked up the first of the bags. "Hello," he said kindly to the woman.

"Hello. Your father and I have been talking." She paused. "It's so nice that you help him out."

Sam stopped halfway back to the car looking back at the woman not quite sure he'd heard her right. "My what?"

"Your father." Seeing his confusion, she added in clarification, "Stepfather I mean."

Before Sam could say anything, Al coughed. "Um, yes. Son. Um...we should probably get back to the house."

Sam looked back and forth between the two wondering how the woman came up with that idea. Finally, his narrow-eyed gaze settled on Al. "What did you tell her," he asked accusingly.

"It's been nice meeting you ma'am." Al said, getting up and smiling to the woman. He wished he didn't have the crutches, but quickly hobbled to the car. As he reached Sam he whispered low, so only Sam could hear. "I'll tell you in the car. Let's go."

Sam watched as Al got in the car. Without thinking, he took the crutches when they were held out to him. Again he looked back and forth between his friend and the woman sitting on the bench. "What the hell's going on?" he wondered out loud. Al didn't answer. All of a sudden he felt as if he'd walked into the Twilight Zone. Not pressing the issue, he put the crutches in the back seat then added the rest of their bags. "Have a nice day," he told the woman," before getting in the car. "What the hell's going on?" he demanded again once the door was closed.

"Um...the questions she asked and the way she was asking...I sort of decided to um...well...I told her you were my stepson from my second marriage."

"I'm your stepson from your second marriage? What kind of questions could she be asking you that would make you tell her that?"

"Um...she asked if you were my caretaker." He looked at Sam incredulous. "Caretaker. Like I was an invalid or something. I had to say something else. Caretaker sounds like I'm helpless or something."

"So you couldn't just say I was your friend? You had to make up some elaborate story about me being your stepson?" Sam stopped at the exit to the parking lot waiting for the light there to turn green. He looked over to Al, "I hate to tell you but right now until you get that thing off, you are sort of an invalid."

Al nodded. "Yeah, I guess so."

Once Sam had a green light, he made a right to head back in the direction of his house. "But why? Why did you want her to think we were family?" He hastened to make sure his friend knew that he wasn't upset by the thought. "It's a nice sentiment. I just don't know why it was so important to you that a stranger think we were family. The chances of either of us seeing her again are pretty low." He waited a beat then added, "And we don't look like family. We don't look at all alike."

"Yeah, that was one of her comments, that we didn't look like family. That was why I said you were my stepson," Al explained. Al sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know, Kid. It was just the way...um...well; the way the questions were asked. It felt that maybe she didn't think the situation was all that...um...wholesome."

"Wholesome?" Sam divided his attention between the road and his friend. "What do you mean wholesome? What isn't wholesome about us being friends?"

"Being friends is wholesome. Being, um...more than just friends...well...she just seemed to be heading in that direction. I guess I wanted to nip that idea in the bud."

"Oh," Sam said softly understanding now what Al had been getting at. He looked briefly at Al and then back to the road. "I...uh...I didn't think that would really bother you," he said disheartened. "I mean after all this time I thought...well..." He let his voice trail off as he slanted a quick look at his friend before taking a deep breath. "That's ok. I guess it's good that I know that's how you feel."

Al looked over to Sam, confusion written on his face. "What are you getting at, Kid?"

Sam kept his eyes fixed on the road in front of him and didn't dare to look at his friend. "Nothing, Al. Don't worry about it. It's my problem, not yours. Just because I thought..." Again, he cut himself off. "Just forget about it."

"Um, Sam," Al said, squirming a bit. "Is there something we need to talk about?" He paused, "I mean, cause it sounds like there's something we need to talk about." He stopped. "So you want to talk about it?"

"No, there's nothing to talk about." Sam bit the inside of his cheek still unable to face his friend. "Like I said, it's my problem. I just thought there was something between us but I guess I was wrong." He took a deep breath. "Let's just forget about it, ok. I'll get over it."

Al took a deep breath. "Um, I'm sorry Sam. I'm just not wired that way." He looked down. "If I were, there wouldn't be any man that I'd feel more...um...comfortable with, but I just can't." He sighed. "So, did you find out that you...um...are...um...after Donna or before?"

Sam pulled the car over to the side of the rode and stopped it. "I don't know," he said softly as he turned to face his friend. "All I know is that for the longest time I've wanted...I've wanted..." he moved toward Al crowding him toward the door and bracing his left hand there. His right hand snaked around his friend, his hand slipping into the waist of Al's pants. When he felt the elastic of his boxers, he curled his fingers around them. "I've just always wanted to do this." He quickly yanked up on the waist of Al's boxers before falling back to his seat laughing uproariously.

Al's eyes grew wide as Sam stopped the car and started moving towards him. He never would have believed he'd have to protect himself from his best friend but the way things were going, he was sure that was what was going to happen. As Sam reached under his waistband, he found his voice. "Sam..." he heard himself saying low and with some warning. When Sam suddenly gave him a wedgie, the relief he felt that he wasn't going to have to belt Sam, in juxtaposition to the sudden pain of the tightening of the clothing, was a strange mix.

"Damn you, Sam!" he said with some heat as he watched his friend melt into hysterics. He paused a moment, realizing that as strange as this was, Sam at least wasn't showing the grumpiness or tiredness he had the last few days. He acknowledged that. "Although, you're getting better at practical jokes." Al started to smile as the sound of his friend's laughter affected him too. "I gotta admit, I never saw it coming."

"You should have seen your face when you thought I was gonna kiss you," Sam gasped out as he wiped tears of mirth from his eyes. "I thought you were gonna slug me."

Al nodded. "If it had gone on any longer, I would have." Al bit his lip. "Um...I know you were just kidding but...well..." He looked at Sam with narrowed eyes, "…you were just kidding, right?"

Sam tried to rein in his mirth and looked over to his friend. "I don't know," he responded cryptically. "Was I kidding?" This time he wasn't able to contain his humor and started to laugh again at the look of shock on Al's face. "Oh boy, and you tell me I'm so easy to get."

"You're definitely getting better at this, Kid. You ever think of becoming an actor?"

"An actor? No, I've never thought of that." Sam started the car again but had to wait as traffic went by before pulling out to the street. "And you don't ever have to worry. If my "wiring" ever does change, I don't think I'd be attracted to you despite all we've been through." As the last car went by, he pulled safely out to the street. "He looked over to Al then back to the street. "I'd look for someone big and strong who could protect me," he said with a smile

Al blew out a breath. "That's good to know, Sam."

"I still don't understand, though," Sam said turning serious again. "You're probably never going to see that woman again so why did it bother you if she thought we were a couple? You could have just corrected her and told her the truth. We are friends, after all."

"I told you, Sam. I really don't know why."

Sam decided to let it drop but he did have one more question. "What if I hadn't been fooling around? Would you have hit me?"

Al nodded. "Yeah, I would have." He paused. "It's not the first time that I would have had to defend myself from…um…unwanted advances." He was a little surprised by his confession. It had been years since that had happened.

Sam was taken aback by the news and regretted pulling the joke on his friend. His forehead creased in regret. "I'm sorry. If I had known, I wouldn't have done that. It was just a joke, Al."

"I know, Sam. It's the only reason I'm not upset about it."

"Still, I wish I'd known. I know what it's like to be reminded of something you'd rather forget about." Unconsciously, he rubbed his left wrist feeling the rope that had been tied there so many years ago. "I won't ever do something like that again."

"Let's just forget about it, Kid. No harm, no foul."

Sam nodded in agreement. They drove in silence for another few minutes before Sam pulled the car over. "You mind if I run in there and pick up something for dessert tonight?" he asked pointing to the bakery they were in front of. "I shouldn't be more than a few minutes."

"Sure, Kid. I'll wait here. Just remember...chocolate is a good thing."

"No, Al," Sam corrected, his voice grave. "Chocolate is not just a good thing. Chocolate is the food of the gods."

"Geez, I'm glad our minds are on the same wavelength...especially about chocolate."

Sam started to get out of the car but stopped, half in and half out. "Same wavelength," he repeated almost too soft for Al to hear. "We need to be on the same wavelength."

"What's that, Sam?" Al asked not quite hearing what his friend had said.

"Hmm...nothing. I was just thinking out loud that's all." Sam didn't want to expand further on his thoughts because he wasn't sure what he was thinking would be doable. It was bad enough most of the committee thought he was nuts and should be committed but there was no sense in pushing Al in that direction. Once he was sure about his ideas, then he'd share it with his friend. "I'll be right back."

Surprisingly the bakery wasn't busy and Sam came back out ten minutes later, box in hand. As he handed it to Al he admonished, "Don't open it up even to peek. I know you and you won't stop at a peek."

"I can be good."

"I'm sure," Sam agreed though with skepticism. "But I'd rather not test that at the moment." He started the car and pulled out heading in the direction of home.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Sam put the last dish on the table and took a step back to see if everything was in order before calling his mother and friend in for dinner.

The two men had arrived back at the house just in time for lunch. Thelma had made a pot of chicken soup using the leftovers from the day before. While they were eating, Sam announced his intention to handle the dinner preparations by himself. As he had predicted, Thelma wasn't content to let him do it on his own but he'd been firm.

True to his word, when Sam started to cook dinner, Al kept Thelma occupied in the living room. Sam had been surprised that she hadn't made an appearance in the kitchen once. Al was good; he had to give him that.

Seeing that everything was ready, he left the kitchen and stopped just inside the living room door. "Dinner's ready," he told his mother and friend.

Thelma looked up at Sam. "Ok, Honey. Let me put down this one word." She looked at Al, "Looks like that one's a triple word score."

Al shook his head. "Again?"

Sam leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb and watched his mother and friend. "I guess I should have warned you. Mom's ruthless when it comes to Scrabble."

"So how come you don't play as good as her? Didn't get the Scrabble genes?" Al quipped.

"Oh, ha ha. You're such a comedian. Just come get your dinner." Sam smirked at Al before tagging on "Sweetie." He'd promised Al that he wouldn't pull a joke on him as he had earlier but that didn't mean he couldn't tease the man on occasion. And, he also reasoned, both his mother and Al had pulled his leg a time or two with regards to their relationship so if he did the same to his mother when it came to Al…well, turn about was fair play.

As Al walked past Sam into the kitchen, he said quietly, deciding to give it back, "Smells wonderful, Dear."

Sam raised his eyebrows at the endearment but didn't comment on it. He did catch the look on his mother's face. She seemed surprised, to say the least. "This could be fun," he said quietly to his friend.

"You sure you want to do that?" Al asked, wondering what had gotten into Sam that he was into playing practical jokes.

"Why not," Sam asked, a smile of innocence firmly planted on his face. "She's gone along with your jokes, hasn't she?"

"True." Al looked at the table. "Looks nice, Kid. Where are the candles?"

"Candles? Oh yeah. Well, we have to…" Sam stopped and quickly corrected himself, "**I** have to buy some more."

"So, no candles tonight." Al went into the kitchen. "We're having wine, right? You want me to open the bottle?"

"You and Mom can go ahead and have wine if you want. I probably still shouldn't have any because of the meds." He stopped and looked at Al, all pretense of teasing his mother falling away. "You know, it's probably not a good idea for you either. You are still taking the antibiotic and when's the last time you took any of those painkillers."

Al nodded. "You're probably right about the antibiotics. As to the painkillers, I had one before we went shopping. I wasn't sure they were going to have that special basket available."

"Well, you shouldn't have the wine if you're still taking the painkillers, then. You don't want to mix them with alcohol. How about you, Mom? Do you want some wine with you dinner?"

"No, Sam. You don't have to open a bottle just for me."

"Ok, then what can I get the two of you?" Before either could ask what their choices were, Sam quickly rattled them off. "There's milk, apple and orange juice, ginger ale, or Diet Coke." He looked over to Al. "There's still no iced tea, Babe." It was a struggle not to laugh when he used the endearment.

Thelma looked between the two men again. "I'll take ginger ale, Sam."

Al nodded. "Yeah. That sounds good to me as well." He noted Thelma's face and decided not to push things too hard. Besides, he still wasn't sure that Thelma would appreciate being kidded like this.

Sam pulled open the refrigerator, took out three cans of ginger ale, and brought them over to the table. He put one down by his mother's place, one by his place then popped open the third, pouring it into Al's glass. He didn't say anything as he did. He'd seen the look on his mother's face. He'd be able to push this particular joke only so far before she'd either catch on or it just wouldn't be funny anymore.

"Well, what are we having for dinner," Thelma asked.

Sam picked up the platter he'd put the steaks on and brought it over to the table. "I hope neither of you mind if these are a little well done. I sort of forgot to take them off the grill in time. There's also mashed potatoes and asparagus." He chose not to mention that the mashed potatoes had come out of a box. He'd doctored the asparagus with olive oil and mozzarella cheese before putting it in the oven. He hoped that that would cover up the fact that it had come out of a can.

Al shook his head. "Not a problem, Kid. I've gotten used to how you do meats." He looked around at the meal. "Nice dinner, though. Much better than that first meal we had when you moved into this place."

Sam just started to sit down when he jumped back up. "I forgot the bread." He rushed over to the oven and pulled the door open. A small puff of smoke came out and when he pulled the cookie sheet he'd put the bread on, he saw the charcoal covered lump on it. "Ok, maybe we don't need bread," he sighed upending it into the trash. He came back over to the table and sat down. "As you were saying about that first meal."

"Well...the fact that you decided to make spaghetti and meatballs. You undercooked the spaghetti and over cooked the sauce. It wasn't the most pleasant meal. Ordering pizza was, I think, inspired."

"You forgot about the garlic bread," Sam said taking the good-natured ribbing in stride. He accepted the bowl of mashed potatoes as his mother handed it to him. "If I recall correctly, that time I left it in the oven so long the smoke detectors went off."

Taking a sip of the ginger ale, he added a memory of that meal. "Oh...and the meatballs sort of got crunchy as well"

"You're supposed to put breadcrumbs in them to hold it together." The criticism of his meatballs was going too far. "Tell him, Mom. Aren't you supposed to put breadcrumbs in it to hold it all together?"

"Yes, Sam. There are breadcrumbs in meatball...and egg, and spices."

Al laughed. "Yeah, but the key is bread CRUMBS. Not bread pieces. And frying them is just supposed to brown them. Not blacken them."

Thelma sighed. "I can't see how you did so well in chemistry courses when you can't find your way around a kitchen."

"I can find my way around a kitchen well enough," Sam grumbled. "I don't see what that has to do with chemistry anyway. They're two completely different things." He watched as his mother cut into her steak and took a bite. "So, how is it?" Even though he wouldn't admit it aloud, his mother's approval was something he still looked for.

Al smiled. "Well, he has gotten much better." Al nodded to the table. "This proves it. It's actually pretty good, Sam."

Sam acknowledged Al's compliment with a quick nod. He was still waiting to hear what his mother would say.

Thelma smiled. "It's good, Sam."

Sam let out the mental breath he'd been holding. "Thanks, Mom. I'm just sorry about the bread."

"Well, bread isn't really necessary, Honey. It's a nice touch though, I'm sorry it burnt."

"I'm not sure why it burnt," Sam's brow furrowed as he thought about the bread that had quickly turned to charcoal. "I only had it in the oven for 15 minutes at 550 like the directions said."

"Are you sure you read the directions right?" Thelma asked. "That seems awfully hot for bread."

"Sure. I'll go get them." Sam got up from the table and went to retrieve the tube the bread dough had been in from the trashcan. He started to read it as he walked back to the table. "See it says right here to heat it at...oops. It was supposed to be 350 not 550." He took the tube back to the trash and threw it out again. Despite the obvious mistake, he tried to remain cheerful when he came back to the table. He was determined that another meal was not going to be ruined. "Well, look at it this way. It's not my cooking skills that are lacking; it's just my reading skills."

Al shook his head. "It's not that you can't read, Kid. It's that you only scan things that aren't really important to you."

Sam started to cut into the meat on his plate. "I figure I'll get out all the important parts even if I do just scan." He looked over to his mother then back to Al, a small, mischievous smile on his face. "Besides, I read everything I get from you 'cause I know it's going to be important – and I don't want to forget anything."

"Oh yeah. Financial data is so interesting to you," quipped Al wryly.

"I'm not talking about the financial data." It was a struggle but Sam kept an innocent look on his face. "I'm talking about the notes you send me. I make sure I read those all the way through." He bit the inside of his cheek and kept his eyes averted from his mother. He knew if he looked at her, he wouldn't be able to keep up the ruse. "I usually read those at least two or three times before I put them away for safekeeping."

Thelma's forehead creased. "What type of notes might these be?"

"You know, Mom," Sam started to answer but the second he looked at her he could feel himself starting to crumble. He started to studiously cut his steak into small pieces. "Just regular notes about...stuff...special stuff that I want to save."

Al gave Sam a warning looked. "I'm sure he's talking about the field changes I sometimes send him dealing with the project."

Seeing the warning look, Sam knew if he pushed any further that he wouldn't be getting any assistance from Al. One look at the confusion on his mother's face and he decided it was time to let the joke drop. "Yeah, the stuff about the field changes, meeting dates, that kind of stuff." Much as he was willing to stop the joke, he did give one more little push. "What kind of notes did you think I meant?"

Thelma went back to cutting another piece off her steak. "I'm not sure. Your description sounded so strange. For a moment there, it sounded like your cousin Charlie and his...friend, Steve, but I'm sure that isn't the case."

Sam couldn't hold back anymore and he started to chuckle. "No Mom, it's not that at all and Steve's a little more than Charlie's friend. He's his life partner. We had you going for a while, though, didn't we?"

Thelma put down her fork. "I know what Steve is, Sam. I just choose to be a little more delicate about the subject." She paused as if putting her words together carefully. "And why, for lands sake, would you want to mislead me that way?"

"After all the times you and Al have pulled my leg about the two of you, I just thought it was my turn to do a little leg pulling." Before he continued speaking, Sam weighed his words wondering if it was worth broaching a subject with his mother that they'd discussed in the past. Choosing to throw caution to the wind he very calmly asked, "Why do we need to be delicate about Charlie just because he's chosen a different lifestyle? He's happy with Steve. Shouldn't that count for something?"

"I've learned to accept that Charlie and Steve have decided to live together, Sam. I just don't think the specifics of the situation have to be broadcast to everyone." She looked over to Al. "Charlie is John's sister's son."

Sam was tempted to challenge his mother and ask her what her reaction would have been if, instead of a joke, he and Al really were a couple. Before he could give voice to the thought, he remembered the silent vow he'd made himself not to let another meal be ruined because of tempers flaring. He couldn't change the way his mother felt after a lifetime of being told certain behaviors were wrong. Instead, he chose to continue with further levity. "You know, I was gonna bring up the time when Al and I were in DC and he ordered me to drop my pants but was afraid if I did, you just might forget you're a lady. I figure a broken leg is enough for him to be suffering with right now."

"Excuse me?" Thelma asked. She turned on Al. "Whatever would cause you to ask my son to drop his pants?"

"Mom, it's ok," Sam quickly said. "It was nothing bad. I just fell and banged my knee, that's all. Al just wanted to check and make sure everything was ok and he couldn't do that with my jeans in the way." Unfortunately, even after his admission that he'd been pulling her leg about his and Al's relationship, she was having just the reaction he'd thought she would.

Al sighed and gave Sam a look that, if a weapon, would kill. The kid was pushing things this weekend that was for certain. "It was nothing, Thelma. I got upset after an argument and left the hotel for a walk to calm down. Sam was worried that I wouldn't be back, so he came after me and slipped. He fell hard. With all the other injuries, I just didn't want to find there was something serious that we missed."

Sam winced when Al added on to his explanation. He hadn't told his mother much about what had transpired in the time following the hit and run. At the time, she'd been recovering from heart surgery and he hadn't wanted to burden her. Now it just didn't seem like it was necessary and there were parts of that time he'd just as soon forget happened. The argument Al alluded to was one of those times - especially since he'd over-reacted so badly. "It's all in the past, Mom. I didn't hurt myself any worse than scraping my palms so don't start worrying about it now because it's too late."

Thelma nodded a bit tersely. "Of course, Sam. Obviously things were taken care of." She turned to Al, and sweetly stated, "Thank you for being there to watch over Sam. It does my heart good to know he's cared for."

Hearing the terseness in his mother's voice, Sam knew he had a lot of groveling to do if he was going to get out of the doghouse he'd just moved into. "I haven't tried to hide anything from you, Mom. I just didn't want to bother you with that stuff back then because you were just out of the hospital too. Now, I think I'm trying to forget about some of what happened. That wasn't one of my better days and I'm really not proud of how I over-reacted."

Putting down her eating utensils again, Thelma turned to her son. "Sam, I understand that. I truly understand that you've grown up and are moving on with your life. On the other hand, I don't want to be shut out of it either. You've talked about how Al and I have coddled you and not let you make your own decisions. How about how you treat me? Don't you think I deserve to make my decisions on what I'm strong enough to hear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam agreed, head down as he was properly chastised. "I wasn't shutting you out, though. At the time your doctors didn't want you to be under stress and afterwards I just didn't think it was important." He raised his head and looked at his mother. "Some of what happened was pretty embarrassing, Mom, and I'd rather no one know about it. It's bad enough Al does - and I can't imagine the things that happened that are just hazy memories or that I don't remember at all."

Thelma allowed her hurt to dissipate and smiled at her son, letting him know she forgave him. "I don't need to know everything, Sam. I know you worry about me and for that, I'm grateful. I want to be a part of your life, though. I know you'll be here in New Mexico and I'm in Hawaii, but it doesn't mean we can't still be close."

"I know that, Mom. Sometimes there are things that are going to happen that I just don't want to share." He thought about the work he was going to be doing and added, "Sometimes I'm not going to be able to share things with you. You just have to trust me. Besides, as long as Al's along for this ride I'll have someone to pull my butt out of the fire."

"I know that, Honey, and I'm very grateful to Al for all that's he done for you and all that I'm sure he'll do for you in the future. Don't think that I'm not. I also don't think there's anything that could have happened when you were hurt that you should be embarrassed about."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Sam disagreed looking over to Al and throwing him a silent request that he hold his silence this time. A small, barely perceptible nod was all the assurance he'd need. Al provided that. Sam gestured to the plate in front of his mother. "I've got a great dessert planned but you're not going to get any if you don't clean your plate."

"Turn around is fair play?" Thelma asked, knowing how often she'd said the same thing to her son when he was growing up. She sighed and continued her meal. Turning to Al, she stated, "Just be sure you do look after my son."

Al nodded. "You have my word that I will." Turning to Sam, he indicated his plate. "Mine's all finished. Do I get dessert now?"

Sam looked to Al's plate and, sure enough, it was empty. "You know, it's a good idea to chew your food and not inhale it." He pointed to Thelma's and his plate. "Mom and I aren't quite done. As soon as we are, I'll get dessert. I think you can wait a little longer to find out what's in the box."

Al gave the sigh of the put upon. "Sure...why not." He got up though and started towards the back door. "But, while you're finishing, I'm going to take that time to go and have a cigar."

Once his plate was emptied as well as Thelma's, Sam got up to get the bakery box that he'd put in his bedroom. Knowing Al as well as he did, he knew he couldn't just leave it in the kitchen without the man sneaking a peek and a taste. While Thelma cleared the dinner dishes from the table, Sam put the contents of the box onto a platter he pulled out of a cabinet. As he put the platter on the table, the coffee maker gurgled signaling it had finished brewing. He'd had taken a guess at what time they'd be ready for dessert and had set the timer on it. He went to the backdoor and called Al in.

Al nodded up to the sky, finishing his cigar. "You know, it's a beautiful night tonight. The stars are brilliant."

Sam stepped out the door and looked up at the night sky. "Yeah, it is beautiful." He pointed out a cluster of stars. "That's Orion."

Al nodded. "Yeah." He took a last drag off his cigar before putting it out. "The hunter. And there's Canis Major with Sirius, brightest magnitude in the heavens. I love looking at the night sky out here. It's like you can see forever."

"Yeah. Forever," Sam echoed softly. "Even if I can get my theories to work, I'll never be able to see all the time those stars have seen or know all the secrets they know."

"No, but you'll see more than any human has yet."

"That'll be enough. It'll be enough time that I'll be able to..." Sam cut himself off before he could finish the thought. He crossed his arms over his body and changed the subject. "It's cold out here. Let's go inside where it's warm."

Al nodded, missing the quick cut off in Sam's response. "Well, let's get to that box and the treasures within."

"After you." Sam pulled open the door, holding it until Al had passed through. Thelma was just finishing pouring the coffee when they walked in. "Mom, I'm supposed to be taking care of that," he reminded her. When she'd insisted on clearing the dishes from the table, he'd relented but only after she pointed out that since he'd cooked that meant it was her turn to clean up but pouring the coffee wasn't part of cleaning up. "He took the coffee pot from her hand and nudged her to her chair. "You sit down and enjoy and let me take care of this."

As the dessert part of the meal began, the doorbell rang. As Sam got up and started out of the kitchen, he looked back and warned, "There better be at least one of those éclairs left when I get back." He went to the foyer and pulled open the front door. He was surprised to see Gooshie standing there. "Gooshie, hi, c'mon in." As he shut the door behind him he continued, "What are you doing out this way?"

"Is your phone out of order, Dr. Beckett?"

As soon as the question was asked, Sam remembered that he'd kept the phone disconnected all day. "Oh, no. I just had the phone turned off 'cause there were so many phone calls. You know, because of the _Time_…" and then remembering Larry's calls, "and other things." He started to lead the scientist to the kitchen. "We were just going to have some dessert, why don't you join us."

"Are you sure, Dr. Beckett? I don't want to impose."

"No, that's fine Gooshie, there's plenty. Well, there's plenty provided Al hasn't eaten everything. You know how he can be with sweets sometimes."

Gooshie smiled. "Yes, the Admiral does have a sweet tooth. Thank you. I'd enjoy having dessert with you." He followed Sam into the kitchen.

"Al, we've got a visitor," Sam said when the walked into the kitchen. "Mom, this is Dr. Schlomo Gushman. Gooshie, this is my mother, Thelma Beckett."

"It's lovely to meet you Dr. Gushman, or should I call you Schlomo?" she asked smiling at the man.

"Oh, just call me Gooshie. That's what everyone else calls me.

Thelma nodded. "Gooshie it is. I understand you work with my son."

Gooshie smiled back and leaned in to shake her hand. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am. Working with your son has been the greatest experience I've had. The programming challenges alone have been a wonder."

"Mom doesn't want to be bored with shop talk, Gooshie." There was a light note of warning in Sam's voice. "Pull up a chair and I'll get you a cup of coffee."

Gooshie nodded and sat down. He figured that Sam was warning him for fear he might say too much. He'd been on projects before and knew there was a fine line, but he'd never stepped over it.

Thelma smiled. "It's all right Sam. I won't try to get any secrets out of him."

"For once Sam made a decent pot of coffee," Al commented as he put his mug down. "You better take advantage of it, Gooshie, 'cause who knows when it'll happen again."

Sam scowled as Al got in yet another jab about his coffee making abilities as he went to the cupboard to get another coffee cup and filled it from the pot. The scowl didn't last long. "I see you left some for the rest of us," he joked as he sat back down.

"Well, I thought since there were six, you must have bought two each...so I just took my second early," Al explained.

"You tell yourself that, Al," Sam joked. "I know you. Given half a chance and you'll work your way through them all, and take the rest out of our hands."

"I wouldn't take any out of people's hands," Al said, sounding somewhat insulted by the statement. "I do have my limits."

"Really?" Sam question teasingly. "I seem to remember taking an ice cream sandwich out of the freezer and you taking it out of my hand to eat."

"I thought you'd gotten it for me," Al defended weakly.

"Sure, and I peeled it and was going to take that bite out of it just to make sure it wasn't poisoned." Sam made it clear he was teasing and that he meant nothing by his words. He pointed to the plate of remaining éclairs, "Eat up, Gooshie. You know despite what Al's saying anything there's fair game."

"Geez, Sam. I'm not that bad," Al continued to brood

Thelma laughed. "Well, Al, if the times I've been around you count, I'd say he's got you dead to rights."

"A bit touchy tonight, Mom, isn't he?" Usually it was Al who teased Sam about how much he could eat if given the opportunity. Sam was enjoying turning the tables on his friend. "Don't you remember the last time I bought éclairs, Al. I brought them back to the project and the box was on my desk when you came in up in arms about something to do with the budget. I left my office for 15 minutes tops and when I came back you'd eaten all but one of them."

"Well, at least I left one for you," Al said chastised, but not beaten. He suddenly piped up again. "Besides, I've seen what you can do to a box of Cinnabons!"

Sam reached for one of the éclairs and took a bite from it. "I don't know what you're talking about." It was a struggle but he maintained his air of innocence. "How 'bout you, Mom? Do you know what he's talking about?" He picked up the platter and held it out to Gooshie to take one of the éclairs.

"Well, if Cinnabons are anything like the cinnamon rolls I used to make at home, I can believe him. You used to eat two for every one Tom and Katie ate. Only one that could top you was your father."

Al looked vindicated. "See?"

"So, Gooshie, you still haven't told me. What brings you here?" Sam again asked in an attempt to deflect any further teasing.

Gooshie nodded, finishing his bite and taking a sip of coffee to wash it down, before speaking. "Um, well...your phone wasn't working so they finally called the project."

"Yeah, I know," Sam said guiltily. "Like I said, I had it unplugged. So who called and why?"

Gooshie continued with his explanation. "There's a meeting in Albuquerque tomorrow. They want you to attend."

Sam knew that Gooshie could be a bit distracted. "Who's 'they,' Gooshie."

"Oh, yeah. I guess I should have said who they are."

"And…" Sam prompted.

Gooshie paused. "It was Senator Smalling's office that called the meeting. My understanding is that each committee is meeting with several groups that have what he calls 'special considerations.'"

"But tomorrow's New Year's Eve," Thelma protested. "Why would anyone have a meeting tomorrow?"

Al shook his head. "This is the government, Thelma. They don't need a good reason."

"Did they say what was going to be discussed, Gooshie? Do they need both of us," he said nodding to Al, "or just me?"

"Um...I believe it was just you, Dr. Beckett. They just said they needed you at the meeting tomorrow."

"Sounds like lots of fun." Sam drained the coffee in his cup and put it down. "So what time is this meeting and did they happen to send over an agenda? It would help if I at least know what I'm walking into."

Gooshie's face turned bright red. "Oh, no! I knew I forgot something." He started to get up. "I can go back to the project and get the agenda they faxed. I know it said 9 am."

Sam grabbed Gooshie's wrist to keep him in place. "Don't worry about it. It'll take you too long to drive roundtrip to the project. I'll just get a copy of it there. Do you remember anything that was on it, though?"

"Well...it said something about changes for government projects or something but I'm not really sure exactly what that meant."

"Great," Sam muttered. "I'll probably have to drag out the whole dog and pony show again like I've got nothing better to do." He turned to Gooshie and smiled reassuringly at him when he noticed the man getting even more nervous than normal. "Don't worry about it, Gooshie, I guess it'll be a surprise and I like those...sort of." He turned to Al, the smile changing from reassuring to calculating. "So, Al, you want to come with me for this little amusement park ride?"

"I'll go if you need me, Sam. With the leg though, it would be hard to keep it elevated for the drive, if you know what I mean."

"Of course, Al. I know how much you enjoy following doctor's orders." He raised his hand to stop his friend before he could get going. "I know, I know, you've been doing everything you're supposed to this time. I'm just giving you a hard time. Besides, you got your socks so Weitzman's all yours next time he's out here." He stopped and thought about what he'd said before turning a horrified face to Gooshie. "Tell me Weitzman's not going to be at this meeting."

"I…I don't remember, Dr. Beckett," Gooshie stuttered out. "He may have been listed but I just don't remember."

"Oh great," Sam groaned. "That'll just be the cherry on top of the sundae."

Thelma, who'd stayed silent during the conversation asked, "Who exactly is this...Weitzman. I've heard you and Al mention him a few times and you don't seem to care very much for him."

Sam looked to his mother and opened his mouth to explain Weitzman to him but just as quickly closed it. He really couldn't find the words to describe the man. Instead, he looked over to Al. "You wanna take this one?"

Al sighed. "Imagine Abraham Lincoln. Now imagine him as the most annoying and boring person imaginable. That's Senator Weitzman."

Thelma's face showed her confusion. "Whatever does Abraham Lincoln have to do with this man?"

"He's got a thing with Lincoln," Sam said taking over the explanation. "He dresses like him, stovepipe hat and all."

"O…k…," Thelma said slowly still not completely understanding just why Sam and Al seemed to dislike Weitzman but not wanting to press them any further.

Gooshie got up after finishing his éclair and coffee. "Well, I really should be going. Thank you for the dessert, it was great and it was nice meeting you, Mrs. Beckett." After Gooshie had said his goodbyes, Sam walked him to the front door.

The programmer said before heading out the door, "I'll send you the information tomorrow morning when I get into the project. I should be in by 7 and I'll send you the directions by 7:30. That should be early enough, right?"

Sam shook his head. " My fax machine here is on the blink so why don't you just call me when you get back to the project and let me know where the meeting is and I can pull up the directions. Don't worry about the agenda. I'm sure I'll be able to figure it all out when I get there."

Gooshie nodded. "Well, actually Dr. Beckett, I didn't want to say anything in front of your mother but the meeting's at Sandia Labs in Albuquerque. I don't think you'll need directions there, do you?"

"No, I know how to get there, so I guess we're all set."

"I am sorry for the interruption tonight, Dr. Beckett."

"Don't worry about it. Don't worry about calling since I know all I need to know. I wouldn't have time to look it over until then anyway. Thanks for coming out and letting me know," Sam said as he handed the man his coat. "I'm sorry you had to drive this far."

"No problem. It was a beautiful drive and it was really nice to meet your mother. Good night."

"Good night." Sam closed the door behind Gooshie then went back to the kitchen. He helped Thelma finish cleaning up the kitchen before the three went into the living room to watch TV. After a while, Sam got up and went to his office to try to figure out what materials he'd need to take with him to the meeting the next day. By the time he was finished his mother had retired for the night and Al was at the doorway to the office asking him if he'd be much longer. "I'm just about done," he answered his friend as he gathered up the pile of papers and stuffed them into the briefcase by his desk. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Al. Have a good night."

"Good night, kid, and don't worry. I'm sure the meeting with be a breeze."

"Oh, yeah. I'm sure," Sam answered with a roll of his eyes before leaving the office and going down to his bedroom. He spent a short time reading through some of the material he'd pulled to bring with him but retired for the night early. The fresher he was for the meeting, the better it would be.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

When the alarm clock by his bed started beeping to signal a start to the day, Sam wanted to take it and throw it out the window. Though not a stranger to early mornings, he preferred that those early mornings didn't include another boring meeting.

He contemplated hitting the snooze button but knew that was only delaying the inevitable. Instead, he turned off the alarm, got out of bed and made his way to the bathroom. He'd laid out a suit to wear the previous night so he got right into the shower.

Twenty minutes later, he walked into the kitchen where his mother was already up fixing breakfast. He put his suit coat over the back of one of the chairs and his briefcase down on another. After kissing his mother good morning, he told her, "You don't have to make a lot, Mom. I'm just gonna grab something quick before I head out. I don't know what kind of traffic I might hit this morning."

"That's fine Sam, but you should eat something. You look very nice, by the way."

"Thanks. I hate wearing this thing, though." Sam pulled at the tie around his neck to make his point. "I feel like I'm strangling myself." As the toaster popped up, he grabbed a slice, buttered it and started to eat it while pouring a cup of coffee from the pot. "Toast'll be fine. They'll probably have something when I get to the meeting. They usually do. I swear sometimes that's all they have these things for is so that they have an excuse to get a catered meal."

"I'm sure it's for more than that, Son."

"You haven't been to one of these." Sam sat at the table just as Al made his way to the kitchen. "Tell her, Al. Isn't that all they have these meetings for…so that they can get a free meal?"

"Well, not all the time, Sam. Sometimes they do have a valid reason." Al sat down at the table next to Sam and smiled his thanks to Thelma when she put a cup of coffee down in front of him.

"Whose side are you on?" Sam asked stuffing the rest of the slice of toast in his mouth then drinking down the cup of coffee in one gulp. He looked at the clock on the microwave. "I better get going if I'm going to get there in time. With my luck, traffic's going to be gridlocked today even if it is New Year's Eve." He picked up the briefcase and pulled a piece of paper out of the front pocket. "Before I forget, I put together a list for dinner tonight. One of you will have to call it in. Remember, it's New Year's Eve so you'll probably have to call early so it gets here in time for dinner. If I have to go to this thing at least I can have dinner to look forward to."

Al was a bit surprised by Sam's retort. He ignored it though. When the kid mentioned dinner, he nodded. "Yeah, we can do that."

"Great. Let me just get you some money." Sam pulled his wallet out but it was only when he opened it that he remembered that his monetary situation hadn't changed in the last couple of days and there was still one lone twenty in residence. "Darn, I still need to get to the bank." He thought about giving Al the twenty but didn't want to be on the road with nothing in his wallet since he couldn't make it to the bank right away. "Can one of you just pay for it? I'll stop by the bank on the way home today and get money out of my account to pay you back." He turned to Al. "I'll also write out the check for the other stuff I owe you for as soon as I get back.".

"No problem, Kid. You better get a move on though."

"Yeah." He kissed his mother on the cheek again. "If there's anything I missed on the list, just add it. I'll be home no later than 6:00 - hopefully earlier. I'll see you later," he said as he left.

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Sam actually made good time getting up to Albuquerque. When he walked into the conference room where the meeting was being held, he bit back a groan. Although there were coffee pots on the side table, there was no sign of the expected breakfast. That could only mean one thing. This meeting somehow had something to do with the budget, funding, fiscal responsibility, and the like. It seemed those were the only meetings that never had a caterer almost as if they were trying to prove something.

As he poured a cup of coffee, he bit back a second groan when he saw the black-clad man with the stovepipe hat walk in. Weitzman was going to be here after all. Briefly, he looked up toward heaven. _Whatever I did_, he thought, _could not have been this bad and if it was, I'm sorry_. Pasting a fake grin on his face, he went over to greet the man. "Senator Weitzman, I didn't know you were going to be here."

Senator Weitzman reached for Sam's hand and began to pump it heartily. "Ah Dr. Beckett! I've meant to congratulate you on your latest honor. I apologize that pulling together my presentation for today prevented me from calling you," he stated a bit loudly as if hoping that somehow he'd call attention to their conversation. "After all, it's not everyday that one of the scientists I have the extreme pleasure to be working with is named Time's Man of Year."

"Oh no, Sir," Sam quickly corrected. "It was just a cover article, not the Man of the Year."

Realizing that it wasn't quite the honor he'd thought, Weitzman continued. "Well, they compared you to Einstein at least, I believe. That's still quite the honor."

Sam winced at the reminder that he'd been put on the same level as his idol. "Um, yeah." He quickly acknowledged the Senator's other statement. "I'm sure you've been quite busy so, please, don't worry about not calling."

"Well, yes, I've been extremely busy," the black clad man blustered. "Your affairs aren't the only thing that takes up a senator's time, let me assure you."

"Uh, yes Sir." Sam felt it wasn't wise to point out to the man that he'd never meant to insinuate that the man should be keeping tabs on his affairs. Aside from the fact he really didn't want the senator delving that far into his life, it was also best not to offend the person who was essentially holding the purse strings for the project and could keep them tied shut for the slightest provocation. "If you'll excuse me Sir, I...uh...there's someone over there I have to talk to."

"Of course. Glad to see you networking, Samuel." The Senator headed over to another group of people on the other side of the room.

Sam breathed a sigh of relief when the senator walked off, deciding that correcting the man on how he preferred to be addressed as a skirmish not worth fighting. He hadn't actually seen anyone he had to speak with but was using it as a way to escape from the political figure he'd least like to spend time with. Picking up his cup of coffee, he found a spare agenda on the side table. He went to the conference table, sat down, and started to scan through the agenda and the accompanying materials. As he did, he was hard-pressed to hold back his third groan of the morning. Nearly the entire thing was made up of budgetary and fiscal items. Without Al, he was going to end up floundering through this meeting.

A woman walked up to him. "Dr. Beckett, isn't it?" She put out a hand. "I'm Sarah Ellington. I understand you're working down at White Sands."

Sam stood up from his place and took the woman's hand shaking it gently. "I'm Dr. Beckett. I'm sorry, do I know you?"

"I'm afraid not. I'm Senator Sparks' aide. He asked me to come to the meeting today to represent him. His son, Michael, who I understand you've met, has a swim meet today."

Feeling that it was better not to mention how he'd met Michael Sparks, Sam smiled politely at the woman. "I received Senator Sparks' letter. He said you'd be getting in touch with me." He chuckled lightly. "I didn't think he meant at this meeting."

"Well, considering how quickly this meeting was pulled together, I sincerely doubt it crossed his mind. Still, it's good to make contact with you. If you have some time during the break, perhaps we could..." She was cut off from the rest of her sentence by the call to get things started from the podium. Smiling, she finished. "I would like to compare calendars. I'll see you at break, Dr. Beckett." She turned to make her way to her seat.

Sam quickly swung his attention from Sarah Ellington to the speaker at the podium as he sat down once again. When he heard the man announce that they'd be viewing a video presentation before the actual meeting started, he had to fight the desire to take the pencil in his hand and drive it through his eye into his brain. Experience dictated that any meeting starting with a video presentation was going to be a long, drawn out affair.

As the lights in the room dimmed, the video on the TV opposite where Sam sat was started. For the next 20 minutes, he and the others in the room were treated to a message from the president about fiscal responsibility, among other mundane topics. A little over ten minutes into the presentation, Sam could feel his eyes growing heavy. A few minutes later, he was fighting not to let his chin hit his chest. When the video ended and the lights suddenly came on, he jerked his head up and opened his eyes wide; sure that everyone else had seen him.

He happened to catch the eye of Senator Weitzman who was sitting at the head of the table but in clear view and saw the man frown disapprovingly at him. _Great_, he thought, _the guy who can basically kill us and he catches me nodding off_. He quickly averted his eyes from Senator Weitzman to the man who'd approached the podium and caught the words "first slide presentation". Wonderful, he'd just barely managed to get through the video and now it was going to be slideshows. The presenter was one who made the teacher in _Ferris Bueller's Day Off_ sound riveting. Sam was sure, he'd passed up GO and headed straight for Hell. Someone somewhere must have really had it out for him.

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Thelma had just finished cleaning Sam's kitchen to within an inch of its life. It wasn't that it hadn't been tidy; it just hadn't been up to her quality of clean and since she'd likely be leaving earlier than she originally planned, she figured getting it done now was paramount. It hadn't really surprised her that the kitchen wasn't kept to her specifications. Although not a slob, Sam had never been much for spending more time than absolutely necessary doing any kind of cleaning. He also had the most illogical way of organizing his kitchen and she'd rearranged items to make it easier for him.

She went into the living room to sit for a few moments and take a break before tackling the bathrooms. She expected that they'd probably be in the same need of a thorough going over as the kitchen had been. She'd brought her knitting with her, though, and figured that she'd work on that during the break. She'd started to knit Sarah a lightweight outfit – couldn't be too warm for Hawaii after all. Al was already in the living room and she sat down on the sofa by him, pulling out her work. "Did any of your wives knit, Al?"

"Um. Yeah. Ruthie, my..." He thought for a minute. "...um, sec...no third wife used to. She once knitted me one of those Irish Fisherman sweaters. You know...the one's that look like they have belly buttons or something down the middle?"

"Of course I know what an Irish Fisherman sweater is," Thelma said with a smile. "Sam has one, remember. You were able to save it for him after the plane crash but you teased him making him think you got him that other sweater to replace it." She laughed. "You certainly had him going when you made him think that was the replacement."

He smiled. "Oh yeah. That one of Sam's. I'm glad I was able to get it back for him." Al didn't like thinking about that particular time, even with the sweater joke. Besides the plane crash and Sam's almost not making it through, there was still the mystery of what had caused the plane to crash. He found that since nothing made sense, it was easier to just block the moment out of his mind.

"I made him one similar to that when he was in his first year at MIT," she said, starting to work on the pastel pink sweater. "He wore it until the elbows wore out and he'd only get rid of it if I made him a new one. After that, every time that sweater would wear out he'd call me up. 'I need a new favorite sweater, Mom' he'd always tell me and I'd get to work on another one for him." Thelma laughed fondly thinking of the sweaters she'd knit for her son. "If I know my Sam, he's got every one of them put away somewhere even if they aren't wearable anymore."

"I'm sure. Sam doesn't easily part with things that have meaning to him."

"No, he doesn't." She gestured to the quilt that was folded up along the back of the other couch. "Did he ever tell you where that came from?"

"That quilt? No. He just told me it was his favorite. He likes to wrap up in it, especially when he's not feeling well."

"His grandmother, John's mother, made it for him. I think he was 5 or 6 when she gave it to him." Putting down her knitting, Thelma got up to get the quilt bringing it back over to Al. She unfolded it and pointed to a square of cloth on it. "This piece came from a pair of pajamas that Sam had when he was a baby." She pointed to another piece. "This came from one of my old dresses, and this one came from his blanky. Almost every square of fabric came from something that Sam was familiar with." She folded the quilt back up and returned it to the couch. "I had to put it on his bed every year once the weather got cold. He didn't care how much the colors and fabrics really didn't go together. His Grandma had made it for him and that's all he cared about."

She came back over to the couch and again picked up her knitting. "Sometimes I think Sam holds onto these things to distinguish his important memories so that they don't just become jumbled with everything else he remembers."

"That certainly sounds like Sam. All I know is that once when he asked me to help him with cleaning out the attic, we really didn't get very far. I'd try to get rid of something and he'd pull it back. I think we may have gotten rid of one box of broken Christmas bulbs and several boxes of old magazines."

"Now that must have been quite a feat," Thelma said in mock surprise. "Are you sure he didn't reclaim the magazines afterwards?"

"No. I convinced him that computers had changed so much since the magazine had been published, he really didn't need to keep them anymore." Suddenly Al snapped his fingers. "You know, now that I think of it, Sam does have a box with old worn out clothes. The sweaters are probably in that. I tried to toss it and he almost took my head off."

Thelma shook her head in fond exasperation. "Sometimes I don't know what to do with that boy. Whatever else could he be holding on to?"

"As I recall, I found a ripped vest and a brown suit that had paint splatters on it."

"A brown suit with paint and a ripped vest," Thelma said thoughtfully before shrugging. "I have no idea what he'd be holding on to those for. I do wonder what else he has up there, though."

Thelma nodded to the television. "Do you think you could turn on the television? I know it's silly, but I've started watching a particular soap opera again. It's called _Moments to Live_.' I stopped watching it after that tragedy a few years ago."

"What tragedy?"

"Oh...one of the actors. A nice young man, played one of the main doctors. I guess one of his fans went crazy. She kidnapped him and shot him. He never came back to the series."

"That's a shame. It's hard to fathom what people do sometimes."

"It is hard to fathom." Thelma looked for the TV remote on the coffee table, a likely place in her mind for it to be, but didn't find it there. "Do you have any idea where Sam keeps the television remote?

Al reached his hand down between the cushions, pulled out the remote in question, and handled to Thelma without a word.

"Now how did you know that that was going to be there?" she asked taking the remote. She turned the TV on and flipped through the channels until she found the one showing _Moments To Live_.

Al shrugged. "It just seems to be his favorite place to keep it. I don't ask."

Al watched the show that Thelma was obviously into, although he did so more because Thelma was enjoying it so. About halfway through, a news bulletin flashed onto the screens, telling about an accident on I-25 on the way to Albuquerque. A sudden fog had overtaken the road, and there was a severe pile up.

"Wasn't Sam going to Albuquerque?" Thelma asked with some trepidation. "Would he have been on that road?"

Al knew better than to lie to Thelma. Still he wanted to reassure her even though this news bothered him as well. "Yeah. He'd take I-25 but he left a while ago. I'm sure he would have missed this."

"You can't know that, Al. He could have hit traffic that slowed him down." Thelma put down her knitting moving to sit at the edge of the couch as the coverage of the accident continued. She strained to see if she recognized Sam's car in any of the video footage they were showing. "For all we know, he could be a part of that."

"I'm sure he's fine, Thelma. I'll see what I can find out, though." Al picked up the phone but when he tried to call out, all he got was a message that the system was at capacity and asking him to try his call later. "Great!" he mumbled to himself.

"What? What's wrong?" Thelma asked as her concern grew.

"Oh...I guess this news has a number of people worried. The phone system is at capacity."

"What if someone's trying to get through to us to tell us something's happened to Sam? How are they going to get through?" Thelma couldn't say why but she had a feeling that right now Sam was in a very distressful situation. It could just be her imagination since they were still showing coverage of the accident but she didn't think it was. "Did that look like his car?" she asked as they panned across some of the vehicles involved. She looked over to Al half expecting him to confirm her fear and praying that he wouldn't.

"I don't think that was his jeep, Thelma," Al quickly said trying to defuse some of the woman's worry. "It didn't look like it" He got up and started walking towards Sam's office. "I have another way to check on him. Give me a minute." Seeing Thelma getting herself wrapped up in the news, he gave her a smile. "Thelma, there's no use in borrowing trouble. Until we know something for sure, let's just assume the best, ok?"

"I'm trying, Al, but I just have this awful feeling that Sam's in some kind of trouble."

"Well, I'm sure it's just concern. Sam's most likely safe and sound at..." He trailed off, not wanting to give away the meeting location.

"At where? Where did he go anyway?" Seeing the stubborn set to Al's jaw, she quickly backed off. "I know, you can't tell me but you can't blame me for worrying about him. If you have some way of finding out if he's safe, please do it. I don't care where he is as long as I know he's not hurt."

Al nodded. "Ok. I'll be right back." He worked his way back to Sam's office and turned on his friend's computer. Sam had set things up so that Al had an account on the computer as well since they often worked from Sam's house. He opened up his email and sent a message to Gooshie, asking him to check to see if Sam had made it to his meeting. There were phone lines that would bypass the local system at the project.

Gooshie, who Al knew would be monitoring the computer systems, got back to him quickly. He'd checked and Sam was at the meeting. He also attached a copy of the agenda for Al. When Al opened it, he groaned and voiced to himself, "Thelma, you couldn't be more right. Sam's definitely in trouble right now, only it has nothing to do with the accident." Seeing that one of the speakers was Weitzman, he groaned a second time. "Sorry, Kid. I wouldn't have wished that on you for the world." Finally, he got up and went back to the living room. "Sam's ok, Thelma."

"Were you able to reach him? Did you talk to him? Was he involved in that accident?" Thelma's words came quickly.

Al shook his head. "No. I contacted our work. They were able to check with the location where Sam is. Dr. Gushman, the man you met last night, confirmed that he arrived safely and is currently in the meeting. Out of his element, definitely, but in the meeting."

Thelma let out a breath. "Oh thank God." All she heard was that Sam was safe. "I was so worried that he might have somehow been caught up in all that." She laughed nervously as she continued, "I guess I'm never going to let go of worrying about him."

"It's like I told you, Thelma, I'll always have Sam's back. You can trust I'll keep an eye out for him."

"I know that, Al, and I do trust you. Just like I trust that Jim will always take care of Katie but I just can't not worry about my children. I'll never be willing to let them go. They're all I have in this world and I don't want to lose them."

"I don't want you to let Sam go. Neither does Sam. I know how much his relationship with you means to him. I'm just saying, if there's ever a time when you're not sure about things, you can count on me."

Thelma realized no matter how much she tried to explain it; Al wouldn't be able to understand how she felt - just like Sam seemed unable to accept it. The whole time the kids were growing up she'd always encouraged them to stand on their own and to be their own person. She still wanted that for both Sam and Katie but when she lost Tom she knew she'd do whatever she had to make sure her other two always stayed safe and she'd always worry about them. "I'll try to keep that in mind," she said instead.

"Good." He smiled. He sat down again on the sofa and put his leg up once more. Suddenly he got up again and started to walk out of the living room.

"Is there something you need?" Thelma called after him. She got up to follow him out of the room. "You're supposed to have that leg up. I can get whatever it is you need."

"I have to take my antibiotics again. I've been really good at keeping them up."

"Well you go on back in there and sit down. I can get them for you. Where did you put them?"

Al sighed but headed back to sit on the couch. "They're on the desk in the office."

Thelma soon returned to the living room with the bottle of pills and a glass of water. She handed them both to Al who was once again sitting with his leg up. She decided that cleaning the bathrooms would give her something to work her residual energy from worrying out on.

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Things had gone from bad to worse but they couldn't possibly get any worse than they already were Sam thought. The first slideshow presentation had been as boring as he'd feared it would. It was full of charts and graphs showing how monies were being allocated for different contracts and how those same monies were being spent in a very general fashion. It was almost as bad, he decided, as when he sat down to balance his checkbook.

In an attempt to keep himself alert and not be caught nodding off again, he'd started to tap the point of his pencil on the notepad in front of him. He didn't realize how loud the tapping had become until the woman seated to his right leaned over and whispered, "Do you mind," in a very irritated tone of voice. He'd thrown her a quick apologetic smile and dropped the pencil as if it were a snake.

The slide show presentation finally ended but there was soon someone else giving a very similar presentation. As closely as the projected slides looked to each other, Sam was hard-pressed to figure out what the difference between the two presentations was. Unconsciously, he started bouncing his leg up and down eager that the whole thing would just end. He quickly stopped the movement when it garnered another irritated sigh from the woman on his right again.

He felt like he'd been trapped in some kind of torture chamber. He wasn't one to stay still for long periods of time and right now, he felt like he'd been all but tied to the chair he was sitting on. It certainly hadn't been designed with ergonomic comfort in mind. He resisted the urge to let out an audible sigh of relief when a short break was called after the second slideshow presentation. He took a quick look at the agenda to remind himself of what else was coming up. It looked like it was going to be more of the same boring nonsense and only hoped he could last for the duration of the meeting. At this point, he wished that he'd allowed Gooshie to go back to the project for the agenda. At least then, Al would be here instead of him. At least his partner would be able to make heads or tails out of all mumbo-jumbo financial talk.

Sarah Ellington caught up with him during the short break. She was eager to find out when he'd be available to have dinner with Senator Sparks. He reached into his briefcase to pull out his calendar but came up empty-handed. Some how he'd missed it when he was getting ready this morning. He apologized profusely to Sarah and promised her that as soon as he got home he'd get the information to her.

The meeting was soon called to order again. For the next hour and a half several different speakers spoke on different financial issues. Although Sam was able to keep his eyes open and resist the urge to nod off he felt his eyes glaze over and found he couldn't concentrate on what was being said. He started thinking about some aspects of the Project he was currently working on trying to figure out in his head where he needed to go next. Consequently, when he heard his name being called, rather irritably, he had no idea why he was being called upon. "Um, I'm sorry, would you mind repeating the question again?" he asked sheepishly.

Sam barely knew the man who was speaking having only met him one other time. He didn't look at all pleased that Sam didn't seem to be paying attention. "I said that it would be a good time to break for lunch since it's starting to get late and asked if that would be ok with you, Dr. Beckett, since you hadn't responded."

"Oh…uh…yeah. That's fine," Sam quickly answered. Again, he caught a disapproving look from Senator Weitzman. This was not going well, not going well at all.

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As the day went on the pile up on the interstate continued to be the news of the day. The state police had cordoned off the area and that had required a huge detour loop for traffic traveling north and south on the major transportation artery - on farm roads no less. It took hours before everything was settled.

Due to the detours, Al and Thelma although concerned were not surprised when Sam didn't arrive home before six as he'd originally predicted. They decided to hold off ordering dinner until he came home, knowing that otherwise, there'd likely be a problem with the food being cold when he finally made it home. They both decided that playing Scrabble would keep their minds occupied and not worried about Sam's ETA.

It was just after seven o'clock when Sam finally made it home. He pulled the car into the garage and just sat for a moment once he'd turned off the engine. When the meeting restarted after lunch, it had gone no better than it had in the morning. Now he was just grateful to be home and was looking forward to sitting down to a good dinner. His stomach rumbled as he got out of the car. The lunch that had been offered was sandwiches that he was sure had been made out of cardboard.

Reaching into the backseat, he grabbed his briefcase and suit coat. His tie was loosened around his neck and his shirtsleeves were still rolled up. He trudged wearily to the door leading to the laundry room. "I'm home," he called out as the door closed behind him.

"We're in the living room, Sam," Al called out; relieved his friend was home but determined not to take a hovering tack.

Sam walked to the living room stopping to lean against the doorframe. He didn't say anything, just watched as his mother and friend played Scrabble

"You look beat, Kid," Al noted looking over in his friend's direction. He noticed the weariness that seemed to cling to Sam like a second skin and his generally disheveled appearance.

Sam pushed away from the doorframe and moved to drop heavily into the armchair. "That's an understatement. It was hell...sheer, unadulterated hell. You should have been there, not me." He leaned his head against the chair back and looked up at the ceiling. "Do you know who was there?" He didn't wait for Al to answer. "Weitzman was there, that's who was there." He picked his head up and speared Al with his eyes. "I got your damned socks. He was supposed to be your problem, not mine."

Sam was just warming up the subject of just how bad the day had been. Without waiting for comment from either his mother or Al, he pushed on. "And what the hell happened out on the roads? As if that stupid meeting wasn't bad, enough I got sent on who knows how many detours. I thought I was driving to Indiana for a while. I should have been home over an hour ago." He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "I really did not need this day."

Sensing that now might not be a good time to let Sam know how worried she'd been at the news of the accident, Thelma thought it might be a good time just to let Al smooth her son's ruffled feathers. The man seemed to have a knack for that. She got up from the couch. "I'll be right back," she said. As she walked by Sam, she bent down and kissed him lightly on the forehead. "Relax, Sam, you're home now and it's all over."

Al would have tried to rationalize with Sam that the meeting was last minute and until today, neither had known the agenda. He would have been more than happy to be at the meeting. However, Sam wasn't about to let him get a word in edgewise. Once Thelma left the room, he finally answered. "I'm sorry, Kid. I wouldn't have wished your day on anyone."

"You wouldn't wish my day on anyone?" Sam questioned. "Do you know what my day was really like? Do you?" Again, he didn't give Al a chance to answer. "It was all budgetary and financial stuff. Stuff I have no clue about. You know what my standard answer was to every question I was asked? I'll tell you what it was. It was 'I'll have to have Admiral Calavicci get back to you on that.' Someone asked me if I wanted a cup of coffee. I'd said that so much that's what I told her. You'd have to get back to her on whether I wanted a cup of coffee or not."

Sam was really warming up to the subject now. He jumped up from the chair to get his briefcase that he'd left on the floor by the door. "Just wait 'til you see the crap I brought home. Maybe you can make heads or tails out of it and see if I signed my soul over to the devil". As he snapped the catch on the briefcase, it opened quicker than he expected spilling papers all over the floor. "Oh for crying out loud," he said in exasperation as he got down to sweep the papers into an untidy pile that he thrust at Al. "You figure out what goes with what 'cause I sure as hell don't know."

As he again slouched in the armchair, he became aware of a high-pitched beep he'd been hearing intermittently since he'd walked in. "What the hell is that noise?"

Al took a breath. Sam was definitely wound up tighter than a watch spring. "Um. That's the smoke detector. The battery's going out."

Sam looked at Al for a few seconds and then up at the smoke detector in question that was on the ceiling just outside his bedroom door. "You're kidding me, right? Have the two of you just listened to it all day or did it just start?" Now that he was aware of it, the beeping was fast reaching the level of annoyance.

"Well, unfortunately, we've listened to it for about three hours now." At the look that Sam gave him, Al put up his hands. "Sam, think about it. I have a broken leg. I couldn't exactly get up there to change it and I didn't want your mother to get up on a ladder and…" His voice trailed off as Sam abruptly got up from the chair and left the room.

When he returned to the living room, he had a broom in hand. With one swat, he knocked the smoke detector from the ceiling putting an end to its noise. As it fell from the ceiling, it bounced off his shoulder sharply before hitting the floor and rolling to a stop in front of the fireplace. Sam barely acknowledged when it hit him. "It's not making any noise now," he growled before leaving the room to put the broom away.

Al figured when Sam got up, he was getting a battery to replace the dead one. Instead, he watched dumbfounded as his friend, obviously in meltdown, whacked the offending detector off the ceiling, leaving exposed wires and a small gouge in the ceiling. He dryly stated at Sam's retreating back, "Yeah, that's one way to do it, I guess."

When Sam came back into the room, he picked the smoke detector up and slammed it on top of the entertainment center. He glanced up at the ceiling where it had been and saw the damage that was there. He may have solved the problem of the detector's noise but he'd created a whole new problem. Now he'd need to get someone in to repair the damaged ceiling. He sighed with the realization that his outburst had only made things worse.

Since it was New Year's Eve there wasn't anything that could be done to repair the damage now. Sam decided it would be better to try to concentrate on something more positive. As his mother had said, he was home now and the day was almost over. "Is dinner here?" he asked. He'd been looking forward to the Chinese food they were getting tonight. Considering how bad lunch had been, he was ready to eat now.

"We decided to wait until you got back before ordering, Sam. Otherwise the food would be cold." Al braced himself for what he suspected would not be a good response from Sam to the news that his dinner hadn't arrived yet.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding," Sam practically shouted. "I asked you to do one simple thing. Just order the damned food so it would be here when I got home but neither of you could do that? Geez, I should have just taken the list with me and pulled over at a phone booth and just called it in myself." He moved across the room until he was standing in front of the couch looking down at his friend. He hadn't bothered to lower his voice and his face was turning red in anger. "How could you not do something so simple? That's all I asked. It's not like I asked you to cook it from scratch."

Al looked down. He told himself not to get upset - that Sam was just at a point where he wasn't really thinking and was just reacting but it was difficult. Looking back up, he asked with a very slight edge, "And if we'd ordered at five o'clock to have it here at 5:30, what shape do you think your meal would be in now? Stone cold and congealed, that's what. You'd really like it that way, Sam?"

"There's this great invention," Sam stated sarcastically. "They call it a stove. You can use it to heat food up. Or, even better, there's this even newer nifty invention called a microwave. It does the same thing in even less time. You have heard of those haven't you? But forget about it. Who really cares now? I'm sure there's a can of spaghetti and meatballs in one of the cabinets. I'll just have that. It won't be any worse than the cardboard I ate for lunch." He grabbed his suit coat from the chair where he'd left it and stomped into his bedroom slamming the door behind him.

It was just a simple thing he'd asked for. It wasn't as if he asked them to do rocket science - just call in a Chinese food order. As he irritably went over the list of everything that had gone wrong that day, he jerkily pulled off his clothes to put on something that at least he didn't feel like he was strangling in.

Thelma heard a door slam and came out of the kitchen. She'd reached the Chinese restaurant and made the order, the proprietor assuring her that the food would be delivered in about 20 minutes. In fact, she'd been on the phone when Sam had retrieved a broom from the laundry room a few minutes before and was still on when he returned it. She was just pulling down the dishes when the sound of her son's loud, upset voice followed by the slamming door got her attention. "Where's Sam, Al?" she asked as she looked around the living room for some evidence of where her son had gone.

Al's eyes narrowed a bit as he looked at the door that had slammed shut. "He just went to his room. I know Sam had a bad day, but the way he's acting…." He let the words trail off. Turning to Thelma he asked, "I take it you ordered the food?"

"I did. It should be here in about 20 minutes." Thelma looked toward the closed door. "What got him so upset and what was he doing with a broom?"

Answering the last question first, Al pointed to the ceiling. "We don't have to listen to the chirping anymore." He took a breath before answering the first question. "As to what got him upset? I think I just witnessed a tantrum."

Thelma looked up to the ceiling and saw the damage that had been wrought by Sam's outburst. "Oh dear," she said softly. "I better make sure he's not destroying anything else." She knocked on the bedroom door and softly called out his name.

Sam only heard the knocking, not the voice calling his name and assumed it was Al. "Geez, I can't even get changed in peace," he mumbled before pulling open the door with the excess energy he was feeling. "Can't you just leave...me...alo..." His voice trailed off when he saw his mother standing on the other side of the door. "Mom!" he squeaked out. He'd just finished taking off his suit and stood in the open doorway wearing only his briefs and undershirt. He fervently started wishing he'd grabbed a pair of boxer shorts instead that morning. His cheeks flushed red as he tried to hide his lower body behind the partially closed door. "I...I...I thought you were Al."

Thelma's eyes flew wide, more at Sam's tone than his state of undress. Although Sam hadn't been a little boy for quite sometime, she'd seen him in his underwear before. His tone as he answered the door, though, angry and petulant, made Thelma think that Al was right. At the moment, her son had regressed to the actions of a three year old. With great calmness, she answered. "No. I'm not Al." She looked past him into the room. "You're not destroying your room, are you? I wouldn't normally ask that but it's obvious you're not yourself."

"Um...n-n-no," Sam stuttered out. "I was just getting changed. I'm sorry, Mom. I didn't mean to yell at you. I didn't know it was you on the other side of the door." He realized he was babbling but didn't stop. "I wouldn't have yelled at you and I would have put something on. I'm sorry."

"I'm not sure it makes it any better that you would have been aiming that tongue at the Admiral, Sam." She sighed. "Fine. Get yourself changed." She looked down at her watch. "The food will be here in about fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sam responded quietly. He pulled his head back in the door. This time he closed it quietly. He knew his mother was right. He had unleashed his bad temper on Al. It wasn't his friend's fault that the day had been so awful, that everything seemed to pile on one thing on top of another, and he shouldn't be taking it out on him. He pulled on a pair of black track pants and red t-shirt. He found his navy zip-front sweatshirt in the closet and put that on as well. It was the same one his mother had given him for Christmas a couple of years ago. Ironically, it was to replace the one he owned at the time that had seen better days and now this one looked the same way.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled open his bedroom door and stepped out. He stopped just outside the door. Al was sitting back on the couch. "I'm...um...I'm sorry I yelled at you," Sam said looking down at the floor. He ran the zipper pull up and down the sweatshirt just to have something to do with his hands. "I just had a bad day but it's not your fault." He looked up to see how his apology was being accepted. "I really am sorry."

Al looked at his friend, his entire body contrite. He didn't say anything for a moment, hoping that Sam truly wouldn't head to the deep end. "It's ok, Sam. I saw the agenda when Gooshie sent it to me. I saw then it was all financial and Weitzman was there and I knew you weren't going to enjoy yourself in the least."

"Why did Gooshie send you the agenda? I told him it wasn't necessary."

"I called him earlier to make sure you'd made it to the meeting." At the sign that Sam was about to say something about that, he put his hand up to stop any outbursts before he could explain. "That accident on I-25. I called Gooshie to make sure that you hadn't been caught in it." Sighing, he finished. "I should have been the one that was there, not you, although, I would have needed you to get me there."

"It's not your fault. You didn't know." Sam gestured to the pile of papers he'd given to Al. "Any of that make sense to you?"

Al had picked up the papers and was going through them. "Yeah. It makes a lot of sense. Most of this I'll go over with our contracting officer when I get back to the office. Not really anything out of the ordinary. I really don't see why they had to call the meeting like they did. Probably Congress just wanting to show that they're being fiscally responsible."

"Um, about Weitzman," Sam said looking like a child caught in mischief. "I think next time he comes calling, you'd better handle him. I'm not sure he thinks I'm really competent right now."

"What did you do, Sam?" Al asked suspiciously. He didn't think that Sam would do anything to deliberately antagonize the man but unintentionally…well, stranger things had happened.

"Weeellll," Sam began not wanting to meet Al's eyes. He moved over to the other couch and slumped down on it. "Let's just say I fell asleep during the video presentation, had to ask to have the question repeated when they wanted to break for lunch, and when I ripped open a package of mayo it sorta squirted out...on Weitzman's coat...and that was just the start of it. I really did answer just about every question by saying I'd have to get with you on it. It must have looked like I didn't know anything about the project I'm supposed to be the director of. If you were him, would you think I'm competent?"

"Don't worry about it, Sam. He knows you're a genius. You get to slide on 'practical things' in most people's eyes. Even in Weitzman's." Al chuckled. "In fact, you probably just confirmed in his mind that you do good stuff because you're so...um...out of it."

"Oh great. Now he thinks I'm the absent-minded professor."

Al shrugged. "Hey. It could be worse. Your answer to push things back at me was probably a good thing. Weitzman knows I know my stuff. He may not like me all the time, but he knows the project will be run within fiscal guidelines."

Sam blew out a slow breath trying to regain an even keel. "Senator Sparks's assistant was there, too. I don't think I made a very good impression with her either."

At the mention of the other Senator, he looked over to Sam. "Her? I don't think you have much to worry about, Kid. Most women give you a few chances before making a final determination. By that time, we'll have your image cleaned up in her mind."

"I don't think that's gonna happen. Trust me, I'd much rather have dinner with Sarah Ellington than Senator Sparks but right around the time I was going to ask her I spilled a cup of coffee across the papers in front of me – that's why some of that's a little soggy. Trust me; her opinion is not going to change." Sam sighed and leaned further into the corner of the sofa. "The way she was looking at me, all I was missing was the pocket protector and glasses that were taped."

The doorbell rang at that moment. Hearing it, Sam sprang up from the couch. "That must be dinner." He got a couple of steps away from the couch and stopped dead. "I never got a chance to go to the bank. Oh boy, is anything else going to go wrong?" He looked over to Al apologetically, "I…uh…I can add it to the rest I owe you."

Al laughed. "Only you, Sam." He pulled out his credit card. "Put it on this. And yeah...you can add it to the rest...or I can just cover it. It's only Chinese."

Sam took the offered credit card. "You've been covering enough. As soon as we finish eating I'll write out that check for you - no more delays and I'll make sure I get to the bank first thing Wednesday morning." He went to the front door, opening it and taking care of paying for the order then took the bag into the kitchen where Al had already gone.

His mother had already set the table so he emptied the bag and lined up the boxes on the island so that the table wouldn't be cluttered.

Realizing that Al wouldn't be able to make his own plate and maneuver the crutches he said, "Let me know what you want and I can get a plate together for you, Al."

"Just give me some of everything...but make it a little light on the rice."

"Ok." Sam heaped some of everything on the plate with only a little bit of rice and brought the plate over to Al putting it down in front of him. As he pulled his arm back, he rubbed at his shoulder. "Why the heck is my shoulder sore all of a sudden?" he asked as he grabbed his plate to fill it.

Al looked away suddenly but Sam caught when he looked away. "What? Something wrong with the food?"

"Um, no, Sam." He was glad that the kid seemed to be more, 'himself.' He didn't want to remind him of the very recent past when he wasn't. "It's just that...well...I think your shoulder might be hurting from when the smoke detector fell. You really gave it some momentum."

"Oh yeah, that," he said chagrined as he started to fill his plate. "I guess I'm gonna need to find an electrician to fix it." He paused, "And someone to fix the ceiling too." He brought his filled plate over to the table and sat down. "Remind me not to fix the smoke detector when I'm in a bad mood next time." He didn't wait until his mother joined them with her plate before starting to eat. A blissful look came on his face when he put the first forkful of rice in his mouth. "I have been thinking about this all day," he said around the food.

Thelma would normally have chastised Sam a bit for starting before grace was said, but seeing the bliss on her son's face, decided not to push. "I'm glad it makes you happy."

Al, too, just kept quiet, figuring he'd let the Chinese food continue soothe the man's soul.

Sam picked up one of the fried wontons on his plate and started to munch on it. "All I've had to eat today was that piece of a toast and a sandwich they must have made out of cardboard. All I could think of for the last half hour of that meeting was getting home and eating." He reached for his glass but realized it was empty. He got up and went to the fridge. This time he didn't ask what anyone else wanted to drink or run down the list of options. He just waited until they told him.

Grabbing the two requested cans of ginger ale and a Diet Coke, he went back to the table. When he opened his can of soda, a small amount splashed on his sweatshirt and he wiped at it with his hand. "I guess it's time for this to go in the wash again."

"It looks more like it's ready for it to go in the trash," Thelma commented as she looked at her son's attire.

Sam looked down to what he was wearing. It wasn't exactly high-fashion but hanging around the house, he didn't think it was that bad. "It's comfortable, Mom, that's all I care about." He filled his glass and drank a mouthful of the soda before going back once again to his dinner. "This is really good," he said when he finally came up for air.

"I'm actually surprised at how good it is," said Thelma, agreeing. She chose not to push on the subject of Sam's clothes since he was just in the house. "We have so much Chinese in Hawaii; I wasn't sure how it would be in New Mexico."

Sam emptied his plate before Al and Thelma were half way through with theirs and he got up to refill it. "What?" he asked when he sat back down and saw both of them just watching him. "I'm hungry and this really is good."

"Yeah. I gathered you like it," Al said dryly.

Thelma patted his hand gently. "I'm just happy to see you eating so well since you haven't been for the last few days. I just wish you'd slow down and take your time to actually chew it."

"I guess since I'm feeling better I'm trying to make up for what I missed out on." When Sam started to eat again he did make a point to slow down. "Remember that time we went to the Hungry Dragon when you were helping clean up here for Christmas?" he asked with a chuckle. "Did I ever tell you why I wanted to go there?"

"I don't think so," Al responded although he'd had his suspicions at the time.

"It was the only place I could think of where you wouldn't have to cut my food for me." Sam thought back fondly to that time. "Geez, I was really a pain about cleaning up this place, wasn't I?"

"You a pain about cleaning?" asked Thelma. "Based on what I saw when I got here, I sincerely doubt it."

"I uh, I didn't know you were coming, Mom." Sam knew it wasn't an excuse, or at least it wasn't an excuse that his mother would find acceptable but it was worth a shot. "It wasn't too bad."

"Sam, you had the beginnings of another scientific experiment in the back of your refrigerator."

"Well, I'm not always here so sometimes I lose track of how long something's in the fridge." He looked to Al for support. "You know how it is. Right, Al. It's easy to lose track when you're not around all the time."

Al ignored Sam's request for support and chose, instead, to focus on Thelma's words. "Another scientific experiment?" It sounded as if there could be a story here.

Realizing what his mother was referring to, Sam tried to put an end to it before she could get going. "Nothing, Al. It doesn't mean anything," he said firmly.

Al shook his head as he watched Sam squirm. "No, this sounds interesting."

As much as he was willing to share aspects of his childhood with his friend, there were certain things he'd rather not. This happened to be one of them. "Please, Mom, let's not tell that one. Please."

Thelma laughed, ignoring Sam's plea. She knew it really wasn't that bad of a story. "Sam decided to enter a Science Fair when his brother did in Jr. High"

As his mother began the story, Sam groaned and sank lower in the chair. It didn't look like there was any escaping this little bit of embarrassment.

"So Sam was how old?"

"Seven."

"Just keep that in mind. I was only seven," Sam said hoping to diffuse a bit of the situation.

"Anyways, Tom was doing his on an agricultural theme. Sam decided to see if he could grow penicillin. His father didn't know he was using the refrigerator in the barn, where we kept some of the medicines for the cows. When he opened the refrigerator one day, he was certain some strange mold had taken over."

Al laughed. "I'm sure that gave him a scare."

Thelma nodded. "It did. He thought he was going to have to replace the refrigerator and with the drop in milk prices that year, he wasn't certain we had the money for it."

Sam tried to sink lower in the chair but if he did, he'd end up slipping under the table. He knew what was coming next and he knew he'd be hearing about it from Al for years to come.

"Once John got the refrigerator cleaned out and found out that what Sam was growing wouldn't cause any problems, he said he thought Sam should probably go into cheese making."

As Thelma finished her story, Al started to laugh. "You were on a dairy farm, Kid, so I guess that would have worked."

"It's not funny," Sam complained. "I was only seven. How was I supposed to know the refrigerator would end up smelling like a hunk of blue cheese?" Unfortunately, his verbal defense only spurred his friend on to more laughter that his mother also shared in. "It's not funny," he said again but he also started to chuckle as well.

"Sure it is kid," Al responded when he came up for air. "I can see you as a seven year old doing that. You haven't changed that much. You're still trying to push the envelope."

Thelma gave his hand a squeeze. "Just don't push too hard, Honey."

Sam wasn't sure but he thought he and his mother might need to talk again.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Dinner was finished and the leftovers had been put away. Thelma shooed Al and Sam off to the living room while she washed and put away the small amount of dishes that they'd used. When they got to the living room, Sam went over to the entertainment center and opened up the door at the bottom of it to reveal his collection of videocassettes. He pulled one out and turned around holding it to show Al. "You mind if I put in _Star Wars_? I'd been planning on spending tonight watching all three movies – sort of a marathon, but if you don't want to, that's ok."

"Not a problem with me, Sam. Princess Leia has always been one of my favorites. Brains and guts and you know she got a set of..."

"Al," Sam interrupted. He looked at his friend with his eyes narrowed. "I don't need to know what she's got a great set of."

"Braid's, Sam. You know, those funky looking things on the side of her head? Sheesh."

"Yeah, yeah. I know what you were going to say and it had nothing to do with her hair." Sam pulled the video from its box and pushed it into the VCR. Using the controls on the VCR, he fast-forwarded over all of the previews and FBI warnings. He hit the play button just in time for the notes of the familiar 20th Century Fox music to start. He settled himself on the other sofa and was just pulling quilt from the back of it when the opening bars of John Williams' score started. Without realizing it, he started reading the words as the scrolled up the screen. "A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…"

Al looked over at Sam. "You really get into this, don't you?"

"Huh?" Sam asked not taking his eyes from the screen. He scrunched down on the couch and pulled the quilt around his body getting comfortable. While others might enjoy a party on New Year's Eve, this was Sam's idea of the perfect way to spend the night. The only thing missing was the popcorn but he figured he could make some for the second movie.

"You get into this. You were reading the screen." Al thought for another second and then voiced, "Course when you think about it, a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...since they were so advanced, it makes you wonder if someone else someday..."

"Al, I'm only gonna say this once and I don't want you to be offended but...shut up and stop analyzing the movie." Sam's voice held little irritation. In fact, it held more amusement than anything else.

Al shrugged. "Ok." With that, they watched as the first battle seen took place, the Princess placing her hologram image into the intrepid R2-D2. The droids had just landed on the desert planet of Tatooine when Thelma joined them. "_Star Wars_? I like this movie."

Sam was barely aware of his mother's arrival. As always happened when he watched any of the _Star Wars_ trilogy, he was too caught up in the movie to pay attention to what was going on around him. He'd lost track of the number of times he'd actually seen the movie. Eidetic memory or not, it had been enough times that he could recite dialogue right along with it which he did from time to time to the amusement of Thelma and Al. When he heard the soft laughter coming from either of them, he'd clamp his mouth shut and make an effort not to do it again. His resolve would only last a couple of minutes, though.

Thelma smiled. "You've always loved those types of stories. I remember you so enjoying _Jason and the Argonauts_ when you were younger. You could quote dialogue from that as well."

"Uh huh," Sam mumbled. He was more caught up in the action on the screen as Ben Kenobi battled with Darth Vader to really listen to what his mother said. It didn't matter that he knew what the outcome of the lightsaber duel would be, he still found himself just as wrapped up in it.

"So he's always been this way about movies, huh," Al said, turning to Thelma.

"Yes. When Sam's engrossed in something, he's fully there. Remember that Captain Galaxy show I mentioned the other day? Sam was just a little tyke, but he would sit there and was just mesmerized." She nodded over to her son. "Sort of like he is now."

Al nodded. "Well, I've seen him work. That focus isn't just for entertainment venues. There are times when I swear he doesn't have a clue about what's going on around him."

Thelma laughed. "John said the same thing. It was one of the reasons he wouldn't let Sam work on heavy equipment on the farm unless he knew where Sam's focus was."

Sam was mostly oblivious to the conversation going on around him. What he was becoming aware of was the fact that once again he was getting hungry and decided that waiting for the second movie for the popcorn was going to be just too long. As the Millennium Falcon battled with the TIE Fighters giving chase, he threw off the quilt and went over to the VCR to stop the movie since he wasn't sure where the VCR remote was. "Neither of you mind if I turn this off to make some popcorn, do you?"

Thelma looked up at him. "I can make you some popcorn, honey. You don't have to stop enjoying your show."

"I can make it, Mom." Sam looked between Al and his mother and smiled just a little. "Trust me; I'm not going to burn the house down because my mind's elsewhere."

Al shook his head. "I don't doubt that Sam. You've made popcorn enough you can probably do it in your sleep."

Sam went into the kitchen and looked on the shelves of the small pantry for the box of microwave popcorn that he knew he had. When he didn't find it immediately, he checked the shelves again. Giving up he called out, "Mom, did you move the popcorn I had?"

"Yes. When I cleaning up in here today I rearranged you cabinets and shelves. I moved the popcorn to the cabinet with the other snacks. Having it in the pantry didn't make sense since the microwave's not there."

Sam took a step out of the pantry and turned to face his mother where she stood in the kitchen door. "Why'd you move it? I always keep it right here so I know where it is." He slapped the space on the shelf where he normally kept the box of popcorn. "Why do you have to move everything around?" He went to the cabinet indicated, pulled it open and took out the box and brought it back to the pantry. "I had a good reason for putting it here."

Thelma looked at Sam. "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know you kept it there. Half the time you just put things in places that have no rhyme or reason. How was I to know the popcorn was an exception?"

"It's not an exception." Sam started opening and closing cabinet doors pulling out items and moving them to other places. "You moved everything, Mom. Why do you have to move everything? This is my kitchen...my kitchen. It's not yours so why did you move everything from where I had it? You wouldn't let me do that to your kitchen." As he replaced the items in the kitchen to the spaces he normally kept them in Sam realized that this was really more about just rearranging the kitchen.

Thelma watched Sam moving things. "You knew where I kept things in my kitchen. All of you knew that. I know where Katie keeps her things too. They're logical places. With you, I never know."

"So that means you have to move all of my stuff around? Mom, you're going to go home in a couple of days. I'm the one who's going to be living here. Am I supposed to call you up every time I can't find something? If you don't know where I have something, why don't you just ask me?" Finished rearranging the kitchen to suit his preference, Sam pulled a package of popcorn out of the box and put it in the microwave. "I'm not a little kid anymore, you know. I can do things the way I want."

Thelma blinked a few times. She wasn't a hundred percent sure this wasn't a return of the tantrum he'd had earlier. While what he was saying did make some sense, the level of the upset seemed somewhat over the top for her. "Fine, Sam. I'll just let you put things away from now on. Will that make you happy?"

"No." Sam vigorously shook his head to get across that he wasn't happy. "That's not the answer, Mom. Every time I get upset that's what you always say - you'll let me do it my way. Next time, though, you're right back to treating me like a little kid again. Tell me this, when you heard about the accident on the interstate this morning how many local hospitals did you call to see if I was there or did you go right to the county morgue? How many times did you ask Al to try to get in touch me at the meeting?" His frustration began to melt away. "Mom, you can't keep doing this. It's no good for both of us. I love you, Mom, but you're making me nuts. Sometimes when you're here I feel like you're smothering me."

Thelma's lip shivered a bit but she tried to maintain her composure. "I didn't call anyplace, Sam. The phones were down. The Admiral said he had another way to check and I trusted him to do so. I'll admit I was relieved when he told me you'd arrived safely." She turned away so that Sam wouldn't see the tears that spilled out of her eyes. She pulled a Kleenex out of her pocket and tried to dab at the drops so he couldn't tell what she was doing. "I don't want you to feel that way, Sam. I've just been so scared to lose you. First Tom, and then so soon after your father died..." She trailed off.

Sam hung his head when he saw his mother turn away from him. He crossed the space between them in a few steps. Taking her shoulders, he turned her toward him. "Mom, don't. Don't cry," he said gently as he wiped the tears from her face with his fingers. "I'm sorry, Mom, please don't cry." He pulled her to him and hugged her close. "Nothing's gonna happen to me, Mom, I promise but you have to let me go now. It's ok. You and Dad did a good job and I'm all grown up now. Please don't cry, Mama."

"You can't promise. You know that. Tom couldn't. Your father couldn't." She took a sharp, ragged breath. "I know I'm just being a silly old lady, but you're my child, Sammy. It's hard to let go."

Sam pushed his mother away from him enough so that he could see her face. "But Mom, if you don't let me go, how can I ever be my own person? Isn't that what you raised me to be?" He was sure to keep his voice soft and gentle not wanting to cause further upset. "I can't be your little boy forever and I haven't been for a long, long time. You're right; I can't promise anything but you can't stop something bad from happening no matter how much you want to. If we keep going on like this, something is going to happen. I'm afraid that if you don't let me go I might start to resent you. I love you too much."

Thelma's eyes rose to his as he told her his own fears. "I don't want that, Sam. I never want that. I love you too much, too."

Taking his mother's hand, he pulled her to sit next to him at the kitchen table. "Then we need to find some resolution now, not later because we can't keep going through this every couple of days when we're together. Mom, you have to trust me that I'm not going to do anything stupid. Hell, if I try Al'll probably kick my ass from here to Hawaii and back. All I want you to do is to treat me like a grown man and not just your child. It doesn't mean you can't worry or give me advice but you can't go overboard." He looked searchingly at her before asking, "Do you think that's something you can do?"

She swallowed. "I'll do my best, Sam. That I can promise you." She sighed. "I guess I've known for a long time that you're grown up. I've just felt so guilty for the way things went after Tom passed. First, sending you off to school so early and then being so wrapped in my own pain at your father's death that I didn't see how I was hurting you then. I wanted to keep that part where we were close."

"I want that too, Mom. We can't change what's happened in the past, though. We can only go on from this moment. You have nothing to feel guilty about. You did the best you could then, what you thought was in my best interest and it probably was. I don't just want to be your little boy anymore, though. I want to be your friend, too." Sam held onto both of his mother's hands hoping that by sheer will alone this time he could make her understand what he was saying without hurting her anymore.

"You've always been more than just my little boy, Sam. You always will." She pulled one of his hands to her lips, giving it a kiss. "I'd like us being friends."

"I'm glad, Mom. Let's start tonight." He got up from the chair and pulled his mother into another hug. This time the hug broke when the smoke detector in the kitchen started to go off. It was only then that Sam realized he'd put too much time on the microwave and the sound of popping had stopped while he and his mother had been talking. He ran to the microwave and turned it off before pulling the door open and pulling out the smoking bag that he threw in the sink. While Thelma opened the backdoor to let fresh air in, he climbed up on the island so that he could reach the smoke detector and pull the battery out of it. Unfortunately, since it was hard-wired just as the other one had been, it kept squealing. Not knowing what else to do, he gave it a yank breaking the wires and silencing it. "I had to get the other one fixed anyway," he said with a lopsided smile looking down at his mother."

Al suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway. "I heard..." Then he smelt the unique scent of burnt popcorn. "Scratch what I said about you making that in your sleep." He looked up at the ceiling and saw that yet another smoke detector had bit the dust. "You have something against that brand or something, Kid?"

Sam sank down to sit one the edge of the counter and started to chuckle. The chuckle soon turned into a full-bellied laugh. "No," he finally gasped out. He looked over to his mother. "I guess I got a little distracted."

At first, his mother looked at him with concern, but soon she had joined him in his laughter. Al looked at them both, catching the contagious laughter. "So what are we laughing about?"

"New friends," Sam said with a broad grin as he wiped laughter-induced tears from his eyes. He hopped down from the counter and retrieved another package of popcorn from the pantry. This time he was very careful when he set the time. "Let's try this again." He looked to the wall clock to see what time it was. "Once this is done, we can turn on the rest of the movie. It ought to finish up just in time for us to see the ball drop and then we can celebrate the New Year."

Al shrugged. "Whatever you say, Kid. Whatever you say."

This time Sam was sure that he and his mother had reached a new place. He knew that she'd never stop worrying about him but he was sure that now she'd be more willing to let him go and stop looking at him as solely her little boy.

The three went back into the living room and as Sam predicted, the movie was over about fifteen minutes before the local start of 1991.

Al got up and headed out to the kitchen. He opened the bottom crisper where he'd stored a small bottle of champagne. Pulling it out, he called to Sam. "Hey buddy. Come in here."

Sam went into the kitchen where Al was. "What's up?"

"Grab some glasses. We're going to toast the New Year in." At the look on Sam's face, he put up his hand. "There's not that much here, Kid. One glass each, tops. I asked the doctor at the hospital. This much won't hurt us."

"Well, it is a holiday." Sam pulled three glasses out of the cabinet and took the bottle of champagne from Al. "Go back to the living room and I'll bring this in. Don't worry, I won't try to pop the cork," he quickly said. "I'll leave that to you."

Al nodded and headed back into the room. He looked over to Thelma. "You know, it's nice you're here, Thelma. We'll all be able to toast tonight to a new beginning and the end of a difficult year."

"I'm glad I could be here." When Sam sat beside her, she took his hand and squeezed it tightly. "I'm glad I could be here with both of you."

Sam put his arm around his mother's shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. "Me too, Mom." He reached to grab the remote off the coffee table and switched the channel to watch coverage of the New Year.

Al reached over and took the bottle of champagne. Deftly manipulating it, he easily popped the cork. He looked over to Thelma. "You know, it's a good thing Sam didn't try to open this. Last time he opened a bottle champagne, the cork flew out and hit a woman on the other side of the table directly in the..."

"Aaaallll," Sam said warningly, "I don't think Mom needs to know where. It's enough to know I hit someone."

Al shrugged as he poured the liquid from the bottle into the glasses. "Ok." He went on. "And, the bottle overflowed as well. I had to help poor Brenda get the stains out from her..." He saw Sam give him a warning look again. "...jacket."

"I know how tough that was for you," Sam commented as he accepted a glass from Al.

"Hey, I'm just a nice guy."

"Yeah, real nice." Sam couldn't help rolling his eyes. He caught sight of clock and turned up the volume on the TV. "It's almost time."

Al looked over at the television and the timer. It looked like they had about a minute and a half. "I'm ready to end this year, that's for sure."

"You? What are you so eager to end it for? Other than your ski accident, this hasn't been too bad a year for you. Now me, I can't wait for it to end."

Al looked at Sam with a sad smile. "You think I wanted to have you deal with any of that stuff this year? Yeah, I want it to be over because of how it affected you. And if it affects you, it affects me too." He looked over to Thelma. "I'm sure your Mom feels the same way."

"I know you didn't." Sam felt it was a good time to try to lighten the mood. "There's only a few seconds left," he said pointing to the countdown in the corner of the television screen.

"Yeah. Out with this old year...may the next year be better," Al stated.

"It sure as hell can't be any worse," Sam responded before joining in with his mother and friend to count down the last ten seconds of 1990.

The ball had started to drop and the people in Time Square were chanting the seconds as well. _Well,_ thought Al, _They were chanting two hours ago_. Suddenly the ball finished its decent. "Happy New Year!" Al said with gusto.

Thelma and Sam echoed Al and Sam reached over to kiss his mother. He got up from the sofa and moved to where Al was sitting, a wide grin on his face. He put out his hand to shake Al's but when the other man took his hand he quickly bent down and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on his cheek. When he did, he accidentally upended his glass of champagne in Al's lap. He straightened back up laughing just as the fireworks in town started. "You want me to help you clean that up, Babycakes," he asked through his laugher.

Al's eyes widened in surprise. He knew Sam could play a practical joke, but this one took the cake. The sweats he was wearing soaked up the champagne and he looked like he'd had an accident. He was just glad that Thelma was there to see what had actually happened. "Funny, Sweetums. Real funny," he groused. He pulled himself up. "No, I'll just go change. You and your Mom should watch the fireworks." Before he walked back to his room he turned to Thelma. "Happy New Year."

Sam did his best to contain his laughter and look contrite but it wasn't easy as chuckles kept breaking free. "I didn't mean to spill it on you, Al, honest." He had to admit that the spilled champagne was a bit of a bonus. "Go get changed and you can probably see the end of the fireworks."

Thelma got up and nudged Sam in the direction of the front door. "And you tell me not to treat you like a little kid. You sure do act like one." There was enough humor in her voice that Sam wasn't bothered by her words. He grabbed his mother's coat from the closet and helped her into it then put his own on and they both went outside to watch the fireworks display. Just as it reached its grand finale, Al joined them as well.

"Quite a sight, isn't it," Sam commented to the others.

Al nodded. "Yeah. It's nice we have such clear skies."

"Yeah, it is," Sam agreed as a chill wind blew. He turned to look in the opposite direction that the fireworks came from and point, "It doesn't look like it'll be that way for long. Looks like another storm's getting ready to blow through." As the fireworks began to taper off the wind kept blowing with a bite. "Let's get back inside where it's warmer," he suggested as the last colorful sparkles faded away.

As the three walked back into the house Sam felt a warmth settle inside of him that had nothing to do with the temperature in the house. The warmth he felt came from the fact that he knew starting from today he and his mother would embark on a new relationship that he was sure would be even stronger than the one they had. It also came from the fact that he knew he had a good friend who would stand by his side. Whether this New Year was worse or better than the previous year, he knew he could weather anything that came his way with these two people at his side.

New Years day proved to be the easiest day for the three. It was quiet, Sam got to finish his Star Wars Marathon, and they all enjoyed the Rose Bowl. Knowing that she was leaving the next day, Thelma worked on laundry and got packed.

Dinner was a relaxing affair and all got to bed early with the need to get Thelma to the airport the next day.

Wednesday morning Sam drove Thelma to the airport. Al stayed behind at Sam's house to give mother and son time to say goodbye in private. They arrived at the airport with a little time to spare.

When Thelma's flight was called to board, Sam walked her to the gate. As they got to the gate, Thelma turned to Sam, brushing his collar. "You stay safe now." She smiled as Sam gave her a look. "I know, Sam, but I'm saying it as a friend."

Sam put his mother's carryon down and swept her up in a hug. "I'll do my best, Mom." He kissed her and stepped back from her. "I'll be out in a couple of weeks for Sarah's christening. That's not such a long time."

"I know. Your sister will be glad to see you as well as Jim."

"Well, I hope they don't think I'm flying all the way to Hawaii just to see them. I expect to have some time to spend with my niece. I've gotta make sure I give her all the warnings about her mom," he joked.

"Fortunately, Sarah's too young to remember any of it," she teased back.

"She's my niece so I know she's going to be a smart little girl. She'll remember." Thelma's flight was called again. Sam picked up the bag and handed it to her. "I'll let you know as soon as I have my flight arrangements made." He hugged his mother again quickly. "I love you, Mama."

"I love you, Sam-meh..." She caught herself, "...Sam."

"It's ok, Mom. Al calls me that sometimes too. I've gotten used to it."

She smiled. "Ok, Sammy." They called once more for final boarding. "Oh, I have to go." She gave him a kiss and then headed towards the gate. As she reached the door, she turned back and waved. Then she was gone.

Sam stood at the window watching until the plane finished boarding, closed its doors, and taxied down the runway. It was only when it took off and was out of his sight that he turned and left the airport. On the way back home, he stopped at the bank and made a withdrawal. From there he made a detour to Al's favorite Italian restaurant, Fiorello's, and picked up some takeout for the two of them to have for lunch. Tomorrow they both planned to get back to work at the project but for today they could forget about those responsibilities for just a little while longer. He still had the two movies that Al had given him for Christmas and today seemed like a good day to watch them. He pulled into the garage, ready to face the day and feeling, at least for today, things were looking up.


End file.
